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)
Reliving the Accident
"Hey, Phillip, why didn’t you just finish him off?"
"Phillip, you could’a broke both his arms when you had the chance."
"Why didn’t you tell me you were going after him? I would’ve helped you!"
Phillip was trapped on a stool at the kitchen counter at the Haven’s, surrounded by laughing and joking boys. It was Sunday evening and the monthly church youth gathering had just concluded. It was time for refreshments. The jibes were coming faster than Phillip could think of answers. And Martin wasn’t helping.
"He threw me off the roof after the accident. That’s how I actually broke my arm." said Martin. Everyone laughed. Phillip tried to smile, but the half-eaten cookie tasted like sandpaper.
"So what actually happened?" asked Jason.
"I turned left in front of…" started Phillip.
"What, a dump truck?" exclaimed Dan. "Martin looks like he got rammed by an elephant."
Martin laughed along with everyone else. He enjoyed the attention.
"So what’s your dad think? I heard you wrecked his new car," asked Jason.
Phillip sighed. "Yeah, well, it’s totaled. Dad’s not happy."
"I can relate," said Jason. "My accident was on my first date…"
Phillip saw his chance and ducked away from Martin and the rest of the boys as Jason told them his story. He grabbed some punch to wash down the cookie and headed for the fireplace. Bishop Parker was talking with Brother Haven.
"Sounds like they’re giving you a hard time about the accident," said Bishop Parker. He was smiling.
Phillip just sighed.
"Did you get hurt?" asked Bishop Parker. "I heard you had a black eye."
"Yeah, it’s almost gone now," said Phillip. "Everyone’s ok except Martin and he seems to really be enjoying it." He turned to look at Martin at the center of a laughing crowd. Gathered on the other side of the room were several girls, oblivious to the boys’ raucous laughter. Here and there in the large family room a few boys paired up with girls.
"You’re lucky nothing worse happened," said the bishop. "Is everything else ok?"
"Well, Dad’s pretty upset about the car."
"That’s understandable."
"I suppose. He had a pretty high deductible."
"I see," said the bishop.
Phillip squirmed. Was there no respite? "Uh, yeah. I’m gonna say hi to Grant."
He turned, drained his cup and looked for Grant. He wasn’t in the room. Phillip weaved through the kitchen, carefully avoided eye contact with Martin and Dan, and slipped down the hall to Grant’s room. Grant was sitting at his computer. He looked up long enough to recognize Phillip.
"What d’ya think of the fireside?" asked Grant. "My dad’s kinda long-winded, don’t you think?"
Phillip looked around the room before replying. If the word "slovenly" came with a picture, it would be of Grant’s room. Posters covered every inch of wall space; none were level. Three of the posters were for rock groups. Two extolled the virtues of Linux. Four were IBM ads for large-scale servers. And there were three posters of high-end bicycles—what these had to do with Grant always puzzled Phillip. Neatly-folded clean clothes sat in two baskets, presumably put there by Grant’s mother Carla. Dirty clothes were strewn on the floor. The closet was filled only with computer equipment—no sporting equipment was in evidence. Grant’s unused mountain bike leaned against a wall, covered by three pairs of pants and two tee-shirts. Grant’s church clothes lay crumpled on the unmade bed. It was arguable whether the floor was bare wood or carpeted; there was no way to tell.
"Whatcha workin’ on?" asked Phillip.
Grant didn’t look up from the computer. "I’m modifying this game to make it harder. Changing the rules. See, here’s the rules engine. This is undocumented but I read about it on the gamer’s site."
"Why aren’t you out there with the others?"
"Boring. Everyone’s a jock. All they wanna talk about is sports."
"There are girls."
"Boring."
Phillip dumped books and papers out of the spare chair and pulled it up next to where Grant was sitting. "So show me what you’re doing," he said.