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 Meeting
Phillip sat uncomfortably in the easy chair in the Haven’s living room. The smell of roast lingered from dinner. He stood. He sat down. He got up and looked out the window. He checked his watch. He sat. He picked up a magazine from the coffee table. He threw it down. He got up for another window check.
On impulse he ran to the guest room and came back with his trophy, just a few hours old. He carefully placed it in the center of the coffee table. He sat again. He adjusted the trophy, moving some magazines so it would be more obvious. He checked his watch. They were late.
The Haven’s living room, like the rest of the house, was comfortably furnished with eclectic, well- worn furniture. The easy chair matched the couch, both covered in gray cloth with flowers. Sister Haven believed that more pillows means more comfort. A vinyl-covered recliner balanced the room opposite the easy chair. The living room was not nearly as large as the family room where the fireside had been held; it could hold perhaps five adults seated comfortably.
Five minutes late. He stood. He paced. He studied the walls. Family photos, mostly. A watercolor of the Flatirons, the prominent sandstone formation just west of Boulder. What looked like a lace doily in a frame. He squinted to read the faded lettering. "Home Can Be A Heaven On Earth." He snorted. The Haven’s home, maybe. Not the Maceda’s.
The crunch of wheels on loose gravel. A car door opening. A woman speaking. Phillip sat down; he wiped his palms on his knees. Steps on the walk. The doorbell. Phillip quickly twisted the trophy so it faced the entryway. Brother Haven’s welcome. Lance’s answer. Margo’s thanks. The door closed. Steps on the hardwood floor in the entryway. Phillip stood.
Suddenly the room was no longer empty. Margo rushed to her son and smothered him in an embrace. No words were exchanged. Lance moved directly to the couch and sat down. He pursed his lips and studied the other side of the room. Brother Haven, looking hopeful, sat in the recliner. Margo joined her husband on the couch, sitting on the side closer to Phillip.
Brother Haven cleared his throat. "Phillip asked if I could sit in, if that’s all right with you, Lance?"
Lance shifted before replying. He started to say something, but Margo put her hand on his knee. He changed his mind. "Sure, Denny. That would be fine."
"Phillip, honey, let’s get right to the point," began Margo. "We love you and we want to know what we need to do to get you to come home."
Phillip hadn’t counted on his mother’s directness. He looked at the trophy. He studied his feet.
"Things have to change," he said quietly.
Lance started but Margo pressed her hand on his knee. "Honey, we know things have to change. You’ve been through a terrible time."
Phillip studied her to see if she was serious. She looked straight at him, unblinking, care written on every feature. Lance stared at the wall. Brother Haven leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his fingers forming a steeple on which he rested his nose. His thumbs were under his chin.
Phillip’s mouth worked but no sound came out. He sighed and sat back in the chair.
"Honey," said Margo encouragingly. "Give us some ideas."
Phillip looked at Brother Haven for help.
"Phillip," said Brother Haven gently. "Perhaps it would be good to list some of the issues that led you to leave in the first place. That would give us a starting point."
Margo looked hopeful. Lance continued to stare at the wall, his mouth set.
"Well, there’s the accident."
"Yes honey, I understand that’s been as hard on you as on anyone," said Margo.
Lance looked sharply at Phillip; he glared but said nothing.
"I don’t have very much money and I don’t want to give it all up to help pay," said Phillip.
Lance grimaced but held his peace. Brother Haven jumped in. "Phillip, would you be willing to give up some of your savings to help with, say, Martin’s medical bills?"
Phillip studied the floor. "I’ll have to think about it. I really only have about five hundred dollars and I’m probably going to have to pay a lot for the ticket—I don’t know how much."
"Honey, I’m sure we’ve all forgiven you for the accident," said Margo. Lance grimaced. Margo continued. "What else is on your mind?"
"Driving in general."
"What do you want us to do, honey?"
"I went to the driver’s license place and turned in my permit Tuesday. I’m not driving anymore," he said with finality.
Lance pushed himself forward to face Phillip. "You can’t just…" he began, but Margo elbowed him so hard he sucked in his breath. He slid back and studied the wall again. Brother Haven sat up as though to say something, but thought better of it.
"Honey, we understand and it’s your choice," said Margo. "But I think that’s not all that’s bothering you."
Phillip closed his eyes, took a breath, and plunged in. "I want Dad to stop trying to turn me into Richard or Martin. I’m Phillip."
Lance lay his head on the back of the couch, his mouth open, and stared at the ceiling. Even Margo was puzzled.
"Honey, what do you mean by…"
Phillip leaned into his words. "Every time I turn around I’m being compared to Saint Richard. He’s an Eagle Scout. He got good grades. He’s spiritual. He’s on a mission. He’s so responsible…"
"Honey!" protested Margo.
"You asked what I…"
"Maybe we’re getting into too much detail right away," interjected Brother Haven. Everyone turned to look at him. "So far I see three issues. The accident. Driving. And Phillip’s feeling that he’s not valued as an individual." He looked at the group. No one spoke. "Is that right, Phillip?"
Phillip fidgeted. He addressed Brother Haven. "I wish Dad would listen to me, you know, hear my side of things."
"So," said Brother Haven. "You feel your father doesn’t understand your viewpoint. Am I correct?"
"Yeah, I s’pose so," said Phillip.
"We’re up to four items. What else?"
"I don’t want him to scream at me anymore." He opted not to add "or hit me," since he hadn’t talked with the bishop yet.
Lance’s face was sculpted in anger but he held his peace. Margo gripped his knee so tightly her fingernails were digging through his pants. He went back to staring at the wall.
"Are those the high points, Phillip?" asked Brother Haven.
"Yeah, I guess that’s probably it."
"Lance," said Brother Haven. "How do you see that we can facilitate this conversation?"
Margo looked expectantly at her husband, her hand still firmly embedded around his knee. Lance swallowed. He shifted to face Phillip. He pried Margo’s hand loose and patted her hand. With great effort, he began.