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)
The Cool Photo
"Dunno. Maybe it’s the way I name files—they might get caught in a clean-up routine or something. So I changed all the names this afternoon. Oh, and I reconfigured the site to use secure FTP."
"I still don’t like your hosting company. You get what you pay for."
Phillip grunted. "I paid for a year. In advance. Anyway, Dad’s probably gonna come after me for money ‘cause of the accident, so what I’ve got in the bank isn’t real safe."
"You’re joking."
"He hasn’t said anything, but it’s coming. Wouldn’t be the first time. I’ve only got about five hundred dollars. Anyway, if I paid back everything it cost, it’d take like five years at the pet store. And Mrs. Hardesty pays minimum wage."
"Do you think he’d take everything?"
"I wouldn’t put it past him. Like, what’s the point of working if it can all disappear whenever he wants?"
Grant grunted; he was silent for several seconds. He turned toward the computer. "Ok, anyway, I was pretty far away when I took the pictures. I got one of you waiting for the race to start, then several pictures during the race. You’re pretty small in most of them—see, that one’s a cool composition, though. There’s a picture of you finishing. You won your heat, you know."
"No, I don’t know."
"You don’t remember hitting the tape?"
"No."
"How can you not remember hitting the tape?"
Phillip looked up. "I dunno," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "I was racing against the clock. I didn’t pay any attention to anyone else. I just wanted to qualify." He studied the picture more carefully. "If I won the heat, it was by a nose. Look, there’s the runner from Standley Lake right beside me. I thought he hit the tape first."
"Nope. You did."
"Cool. But then I was third overall. That fast guy from Longmont was first and the Anderson guy I beat last week came in second."
"I got a picture of your time on the scoreboard—see there? And, are you ready for the really cool picture?"
"Ok, I’ll bite."
"Click the mouse."
Phillip gasped. "When on earth did you take that?"
They stared at the picture on the screen. There in living color was Phillip’s face contorted into a silly grin—and Matthew looked like he’d just been told to eat goat guts.
Phillip leaned back and laughed heartily. Grant joined him.
"Can I save this picture?" asked Phillip with a wide grin. "I don’t think I should put it on the web site. But it’s just too cool to discard."
The door opened. Grant and Phillip swiveled in their seats to see Martin make his way into the room. He moved stiffly toward Phillip’s unmade bed and sat facing them. Neither Phillip nor Grant spoke—Martin’s slow progress made them uncomfortable.