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)
Not Now, Dad!
"Phillip, I’ve got to talk to you," he yelled, barely audible above the crowd.
"PHILLIP!" roared Coach Johnson. "KEEP MOVING. JOG! YOU’LL CRAMP!"
Jog? Someone had pushed a baseball bat down his throat.
His father jogged beside Phillip. "Son, we got a letter from Park today. You’re flunking English. I want you home tonight working on your paper."
"Leave me alone!" croaked Phillip.
"I’ll let you drive home," barked Lance.
Phillip was 15 and had a learner’s permit. "No way. I have to work. I’ll get home when I get home!"
"Your paper!"
"Dad, not now! My paper’s almost finished. Leave me alone!"
With that, Phillip cut off the track and ducked through several armchairs. He found the other Park runners and thrust himself into the middle of the pack. Surely his dad wouldn’t follow him here! He leaned forward with his hands on his knees and watched the sweat drip off his nose. His soggy straight black hair got in his eyes—he pushed it back. He pulled off his glasses just as Dan and Peter jogged up. He didn’t want to talk so he turned his back on them.
"Phillip!" said Peter. "I daresay that sounded like a discouraging word!"
Phillip turned around to face them. He searched behind them for his father. Maybe he’d given up and gone home?
"Don’t tell my dad I said that, ok! He hates it when I swear." He willed more air into his lungs. "I gotta learn to run right. That was awful."
"Yes, young man, it was awful!" exclaimed Peter. Phillip was getting used to Peter’s affected manner but didn’t like it. "It’s not good to show up other teammates like that on your first try. In fact, I placed a bet with young Dan here that you would be at the back of the pack. The seniors should be in front. My good man, not only have you had the discourtesy of showing them up, but I lost my bet!"
Phillip stood up and watched the two juniors, his dad momentarily forgotten. What were they playing at?
Dan followed on cue. "Oh, I don’t know, Peter. I think it’s time the sophomores showed up the snotty seniors. I bet he’d be in the front half, and here he is. Now pay up!" He held out his hand, palm up, in front of Peter’s nose.
Phillip was sure this little act had been rehearsed.
"All right you guys," wheezed Phillip. "I know what you’re doing. It’s my first try. I’ll do better next time!" He grinned between wheezes. "Thanks for your support."
Phillip saw his father out of the corner of his eye, turned his back and leaned over, still breathing hard. Lance inserted himself between Peter and Dan, barely glancing at them before speaking.
"When will you be home, Phillip? Your paper."
Phillip briefly met his father’s stare and turned his back again. The crowd around them was starting to thin. The 3200-meter event was last and people were packing up.
"Phillip did pretty good for a first try, don’t you think?" said Dan.
Lance looked at Dan for a long moment and turned to Phillip.
"Yes, it was a good try, son, but you still need to do your homework. I expect you home immediately."
Phillip faced his dad and went slightly purple. He was still panting. "Dad, I have to work tonight. I’ll get home when I get home, ok!"
Lance dithered. Dan and Peter watched him intently. Lance turned to Phillip and spoke evenly. "Yes, I’m sure you’ll do better in future races. I’ll be waiting for you at home." He turned on his heel and stalked off.
Dan moved quickly to change the subject. "Uh, Phillip, do you know how many soccer games I played at Park before I scored a goal?"
Phillip put his hands on his knees again. Peter and Dan were back to their script. Were his legs ever going to forgive him? "No," he replied.
"Six."
Phillip stood erect. So they thought he would quit track because he didn’t place first? " Thanks," he whispered.
"Oh," continued Dan. "There really was a bet. Since I won, I get to choose. The three of us are gonna go to Dairy Queen. Peter’s paying."
Peter mumbled something but Phillip’s eyes were on Lance’s receding back.
"I didn’t want him here," he muttered.
"Why not?" asked Dan.
"Nothing."
"You did just fine," said Peter.
C’mon Peter, thought Phillip, you guys can drop your little act. "Yeah, right," he said. "But if that’s what you think, I’ll take it."