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)
No Tip
Mrs. Hardesty was everywhere at once. "Phillip, hon, how’d your first track meet go? No, wait, here, help that lady out with her bag of rabbit food, hon. Put it in her trunk for her, ok? How she’ll get it out of her trunk I don’t know. Maybe her husband will help her. C’mon, hon, I got loads more for you to do tonight. You can tell me about the meet in a minute. I hope you did well." She ran her hands through her hair to shake out some wood chips left by a ferret she’d been showing. Her hair was a gray mop that made her face look even more round.
Mrs. Hardesty’s jabbering drifted off in another direction. As Phillip hefted the fifty-pound sack of rabbit food and tottered to the door, he heard her talking with some children about guinea pigs. He obediently followed a ghost of an old lady out to her car. He wondered about the tiny woman. Did she have kids? How did she treat them? He thought she looked like a rabbit herself. He tried to make small talk about rabbits, but she pretended not to hear him. He finally decided she was the type who wouldn’t talk to mere cage cleaners.
The old lady didn’t offer a tip. Disappointed, Phillip went back toward the store, absentmindedly pushing his glasses up his nose. It was already getting dark; the temperature was dropping rapidly. He shivered. After all, it was still March, very much winter in Boulder. He thought that beautiful days like this were the teasers Mother Nature throws at Coloradoans to make them wish for spring.
Phillip reentered the warm cacophony of the pet store. Mrs. Hardesty was at the back, talking with the young couple about the puppy. Melanie Broward, Phillip’s next door neighbor and also a sophomore at Park High School, was at the cash register selling a small-sized harness to a dog owner. She glanced up as Phillip walked by, curiosity in her eyebrows.
Phillip made mental notes: Bird cages, not too bad, except the stupid budgies—yuck! Lizards, not bad; skip them tonight. Rabbits gotta clean every day—they produce more than babies, y’know. Guinea pigs, same. Kittens look good. There’s that tabby that scratched that kid the other night. Stupid kid—got what he deserved! Dogs, usual mess.
The German Shepherd pup he liked to play with was still there; he thought it was beautiful. In his mind he already had a name for the pup: Trojan. He wondered if Wolfgang and the pup would get along. Old dog and new dog. But it would take several weeks’ earnings to buy the pup, so he put it out of his mind. He secretly hoped no one would buy Trojan so Mrs. Hardesty would discount the price to fit in his budget.
He ducked back through the "Employees Only" door and reappeared with his bucket and a bag of wood shavings.
Melanie approached him with a smile, her register work done. Somewhere deep in his psyche he knew Melanie was a girl but it never entered into his thinking. She was just Melanie.
"Where do we start?" she asked.
"Let’s do the rabbits and guinea pigs first and get them out of the way. I want to do the budgies next. They’re awful! And the noise! How could anyone stand one of those things in their house?" He grabbed his bucket and started toward the rabbits.
"I dunno. Maybe lonely people like some noise in the house?"
Phillip snorted. "Don’t need to add noise at my house. Always something going on. If it isn’t my folks badgering me or Martin, then it’s Grams badgering Dad!"
Melanie smiled and pulled the big bag of shavings. "So your grandma doesn’t badger your mom?"
"Not when Dad’s around. He gets it all. But when he’s gone, then Grams badgers Mom about Dad. When they’re not around, she badgers Martin." Phillip laughed. "It’s like a soap opera. I just ignore it, except when Dad badgers me, which is at least once a day. Grams never badgers me. I don’t know why. Maybe I’m at the bottom of the pecking order."
They busied themselves with cages for the next twenty minutes. He told her about the track meet and about the ice cream afterwards with Peter and Dan. Twice, Melanie excused herself to help someone at the register.
Phillip was glad she did the register work, reflecting that animals only bite with their teeth. He stroked a cinnamon rabbit gently, feeling its silky fur in his fingers. He lifted it up so he could look in its eyes; he wondered what it would be like to be a rabbit. Rabbits liked to run and so did he. He ran several miles at least four times a week, usually right after school. He tried to run at least a couple miles every day.
He could hear Mrs. Hardesty talking earnestly with the young couple. She was using the tone that meant it was time for customers to make up their minds. He overheard "he needs this puppy." The young couple moved to the front of the store. The child was transported into raptures of puppy- driven joy. Melanie broke away to the register to handle the transaction.
"The works," she said when she came back. "The dog. A registered dog, not cheap. A couple books. Dog food. A little bed—that cute one with the lace." Phillip wrinkled his nose. "A collar. A leash. A carrier. Everything. Mrs. Hardesty looks happy, though it sure took her a long time to get them to make up their minds."
She paused and looked at Phillip. The silence made him turn to face her. "Why is it," she asked him, "that people can take so long to do something they really want?"
"I dunno. Maybe they were worried about how much it costs."
"No. That’s not what I mean. I mean, if people really want something, why do they mess around so much? Why not just go for it?"
"I don’t know. Human nature, I suppose. Maybe they’re scared."
"Hon! Now tell us about your first track meet!" Mrs. Hardesty was back in all her bulky presence, leaving the rest of the store to one of the college students.