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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. |
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(About Phillip Home) (Last) (Next) Pad, Pad, PadPhillip’s mind wandered to his computers. He wanted to install a proper home network, complete with Ethernet cable, so he could hook up a computer for his mother—the cable that connected Phillip’s and Martin’s computers was tacked up on the hallway wall. She didn’t want to borrow Phillip’s or Martin’s computer—she wanted her own computer so she could write her e-mails without the boys " snooping around" and looking at the drafts. Phillip grinned when he thought he might install an automatic platitude generator on his father’s computer at work: it would save his dad some energy. Phillip reached downtown. His pace was faster than most of the other joggers, so he had to weave between them. The path goes directly through a park near the amphitheater. The path runs directly in front of an old locomotive long silent from days gone by; he wondered if he could run faster than the old engine. He followed the path under Broadway, past the Library and the Justice Center, then up to Eben G. Fine Park. The park is a favorite picnic spot for families because the children can play in the creek. He finished his run with one last stopwatch check. Right on time. He’d improved his previous time by twenty seconds and felt he could run some more. He grinned as sweat tumbled to the ground. He made three loops of the park at a slow jog and pulled at his water bottle until it was empty. He stumbled down to the creek, sopping wet and panting. On impulse, he pulled off his shoes and socks and waded into the creek, still gasping. The icy water was a thousand needles in his feet. The rushing stream piled up against his legs and reached his knees. He walked in small circles while watching three small children playing with a stuffed monkey by the side of the creek. One of the toddlers left the others and timidly waded out to Phillip. "Are you going swimming today?" she asked. Before Phillip could answer, the toddler’s mother yelled at her to get out of the moving water. Phillip waded ashore with the girl; he picked her up when she stumbled and set her on the shore. Now he had to figure out how to get his feet dry before putting his socks and shoes back on. He saw an empty picnic table brightly lit by the blazing morning sun. He lay on the table, his feet dangling, and stared at the leaves a hundred feet above in the crown of the giant cottonwood trees. Here and there flecks of deep blue revealed the sky between the rustling leaves. Birds sang and chased each other. He let the sounds of the children wash over him; he remembered coming to the park as a toddler. He recovered his breath. A feeling of utter peace washed over him, sweeping through every bone and ligament, from the sand on his toes to the very tips of his wet hair. Feet dry, Phillip sat up. He brushed off the sand and put on his socks and shoes. Reluctantly, he pulled himself to his feet and jogged down the path in the direction of home. Once he reached his turnoff near the CU married student housing, he stopped jogging and walked. Rejuvenated, with a spring in his step, he bounced through the front door and headed for the kitchen. He took a long pull from a full bottle of Gatorade and headed upstairs to the shower. The house was silent, even though it was nearly nine o’clock. |
© David Casler, 2006, all rights reserved. Comments? Contact Page.