Dave Casler
PO Box 98
Ridgway, Colorado 81432
Young Adult Novels by Dave Casler...
I've been told by publisher after publisher that there's no market for Young Adult novels. I think they're wrong! So I'm putting my novels on-line for you. Forget the publisher! Read to your heart's content--it's free! And, I'd like to hear from you, too! Contact Page.
You're reading About Phillip. Be sure to check out About Dan here.
Phillip is a computer nerd who suddenly discovers a liking for track. Everything would be fine except for his father.
About Series Home
About the About Series
Index to All Chapters
Here are all the chapters, disguised as asterisks. Hover your mouse over an asterisk to see the title of the chapter. Click on the asterisk to go straight to that chapter.
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(About Phillip Home) (Last) (Next)
Phillip Confides his Troubles
Phillip closed the door to his room firmly behind him. He hesitated a moment, then turned the lock. He wanted to pray out loud, just to make sure he could concentrate; he didn’t want anyone hearing him. He knelt down in front of his bed, put his elbows on the mattress and rested his head in his hands.
"Heavenly Father, what a joke! Having a family prayer is gonna fix things? I don’t think so! He pretended in front of Gramma he was so humble and contrite. I guess you heard him yell all evening, ‘cause you hear everything, right? Did you hear what he said at the stadium? He said I was good for nothing. He yelled it! With all those people around. Even the security guard heard it. What was I supposed to do? Just grin and laugh and say ‘thank you’ after all that?"
He shifted his weight uncomfortably; his knees hurt on the hardwood floor. He stifled a sob.
"I don’t think I’m good for nothing. Grams likes me. Mom likes me. Even Martin once in a while. And they like me at work. I mean, doesn’t that mean I can do something? Can’t Dad see anything I do that’s worth something? And they like me on the track team, too, so school’s not a total loss. Well, there’s Matthew. Father, why are there people like Matthew? I didn’t tell this to Melanie, but that’s not the first time Matthew’s hit me. He beat me up after I won the spelling bee in eighth grade—I never told anyone, but of course you know all about it. And he’s been hounding me about the church. I don’t know what to say to him. Father, can’t you help me stand up to him better? I just want him to leave me alone. I don’t think he can ever be a friend. Sorry, but I don’t think I can do it."
By this time, Phillip’s knees were singing to him. He chided himself for not using the throw rug like he usually did, but he’d been too intent on praying to remember.
"Anyway, I guess you already know everything that’s happened, but I just felt like I gotta talk to you. You’ve answered my prayers before—can you answer them now? I’m sick of Dad picking on me and I’m sick of Matthew and I don’t know what to do about either one. I feel trapped and no one understands."
He paused, exhausted. He saw the bishop in his mind.
"Oh, yeah, I guess I can see Bishop Parker. Oh, and I shoulda started out with saying thanks for something. I’m grateful for Mom and Grams and Martin and even the sainted Richard and I guess I really should ask you to bless him on his mission. I’m grateful I can run ‘cause I like it. Anyway, I guess that’s about it; I’m gonna go to bed now. In the name of Jesus Christ. Amen."