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)
Hammer It!
Phillip ran in the last heat, the one with the best runners. He heard the roar of the crowd after the first mile. A glance at his time on the big clock made him smile: a very good time indeed—the best of the day.
He forced all his concentration into his pacing. The memory of incredulous look on clerk’s face came into his head; he thrust it out. His father slapping him; he thrust it out. His mother crying; he thrust it out. The bishop’s amazingly stern look, his awkwardness on his first date, Mrs. Hardesty’s plump figure; he thrust them all out.
Pacing. Timing. Breathing. Pacing. The clock. Pacing. Timing. Breathing.
Hammer it, hammer it, HAMMER IT!
Using every last available resource—all his oxygen—all his muscle strength—all his concentration—he raised his hands high to the May blue sky and slammed into the tape. He didn’t need to see the clock to know how he’d done. The screams and yells told him everything.
He took his cool-down lap by slapping outstretched hands as he ran by; he could barely stay upright; the only thing keeping him on his feet was the sure knowledge that cramps would follow if he didn’t cool down. At last, he fell to the sweet wet grass, surrounded by his shouting teammates. He pulled off his sweat-covered glasses and gasped for air.
"Phillip! Way to go!"
"Phillip! You da man!"
"Phillip! Incredible!"
Coach Johnson caught up with the group. He pulled Phillip to his feet. "Keep moving, Phillip. Stay on your feet. Here." He grabbed a cup of Gatorade and thrust it at Phillip. "Work on this."
He gasped for air. "Thanks," he said, taking the proffered cup. "How’d I do?"
"You won, of course," said Luke. "By about thirty feet."
"Cool," managed Phillip. He tugged at the Gatorade.
Coach Johnson smiled. "You broke your own record. That’s state-level time. Don’t forget the awards ceremony in ten minutes." A plainly-jealous team assistant handed Phillip more Gatorade.
"Got it. I’ll be there," wheezed Phillip.