June Novel Essential Information

 Novel Title: Helpless

Time Setting: 1173

Genre: Fantasy

Minimum Word Goal: 90,000

Timespan: August–November

Locations: Deneków and Wielisów, Małolasnaród, Lasnaród

Main Characters: Mikolaj Wiktorowić

Background Information: 

Born the third of four sons and sixth of twelve children to a farmer and his wife in the little village of Deneków, in the Województwo of Małolasnaród, just north of the Książȩlas of Zielonyliść, a day’s journey east of Wielisów, the capital of Lasnaród, Mikolaj’s life has not merely revolved around the family farm on the edge of the Książȩlas, but has also been marked by tragedy.

First it was his oldest brother dying when he was a year old, then the sister born immediately before him when he was three, the sister born immediately after him when he was seven, his oldest sister and his youngest sister at the time when he was eight, and his younger brother when he was twelve, before his last remaining brother and his father were killed while battling with the forces of the Wódz Książȩ when he was fifteen — and that didn’t even include the siblings that were miscarried over the years, including a miscarriage his mother suffered at the news of her husband and son’s deaths that nearly claimed her life, and has left her in quite delicate condition.

As a result, Mikolaj has only four sisters still living, one who is married with seven children, and three who are younger than him, making them his responsibility, as well as his mother, although his last remaining brother had married and sired two daughters before his death.

Since his brother and sister-in-law lived on the farm at the time of his brother’s death, his sister-in-law and two nieces are also under his care, which is something Mikolaj doesn’t appreciate, mostly because his sister-in-law is lazy, greedy, and — as far as he’s concerned — responsible for the troubles he’s had to wrestle with for the last year.

The conflict wherein his father and brother were killed didn’t conclude before Mikolaj’s sixteenth birthday, meaning that he was called upon to serve the Wódz Książȩ in the conflict, which was between two sons of the Wódz Książȩ’s older half-brother, and the son of one of those two sons — who was, thus, the Wódz Książȩ’s great-nephew — until it concluded about about six months after Mikolaj’s sixteenth birthday.

Upon returning home, Mikolaj was shocked to find his brother and sister-in-law’s home in ruins, and two thirds of the family’s grain field charred stubble. When the surviving grain was harvested, it was found that a third of the harvested grain had fire damage as well, making it unsuitable for eating or using as seed.

No one really knows how the fire started, but Mikolaj is convinced that it was his sister-in-law’s doing, even if he doesn’t know how or why she did it; thus he doesn’t appreciate the fact that, during the ensuing lean winter, his sister-in-law seemed to be completely ignorant of their predicament.

Netting only a quarter of the expected harvest left Mikolaj’s family unable to sell any extra grain for money, and on a limited supply of bread for themselves to make sure they had enough grain to plant the following year in an effort to rebuild.

As a result, Mikolaj was forced to butcher the family’s milk cow because her meat was more valuable than her milk, as they didn’t have the money to buy food from anyone, even if they did have fruits and vegetables from their garden to consume, as well as eggs from their laying hens — and the hens themselves.

Throughout it all, however, Mikolaj’s sister-in-law continued to eat heartily, even as Mikolaj, his frail mother, and his oldest younger sister took smaller portions to ensure his youngest sisters and nieces were able to eat well, and had to be goaded severely to lift a finger in help around the farm.

To make matters worse, the ensuing year has yielded inadequate rain throughout the area, setting the family up for another lean year, even if Mikolaj was able to get work logging in the Książȩlas to earn the family some money until things get better.

Since his sister-in-law’s father is still alive, Mikolaj wants to see her move in with him, but his mother continues to urge him to be patient with her, although Mikolaj doesn’t know how much more he can take.

He hopes that the brother of the Wódz Książȩ, who ascended to the same title in the spring on the death of his older brother, will lead to some positive changes that might alleviate his family’s predicament, but, at the same time, he’s not altogether sure if the Wódz Książȩ — despite living just a day’s journey away — really has any interest in the needs, cares, and struggles of the residents of little drought-stricken villages, no matter how near they might be.

Pronunciations:

Deneków: dehnehkawv

Wielisów: veeehlihsawv

Małolasnaród: mahwawlahsnahrawd

Lasnaród: lahsnahrawd

Mikolaj: meekawlae

Wiktorowić: vihktawrawveech

Województwo: vawyehvawdztvaw

Książȩlas: k’seeohsahlahs

Zielonyliść: zeeehlawnihleeshch

Wódz: vawdz

Książȩ: k’seeohsah

Descent into Ruin: Day 15

Word Total: 90,019

Year to Date: 505,208

Summary of Events:

Chalmers watched from a press box as the Wheat Kings played their final game of the regular season, in which Atkins showed no ill-effects from their altercation, as he scored five points in the game. The following morning Chalmers was, to his shock, arrested for aggravated assault against Atkins, but was released two weeks later when the judge threw out the charges — which had been filed by Atkins' parents without even Atkins himself knowing — because none of the eyewitnesses believed anything criminal had occurred. By that time the Wheat Kings had been eliminated from the playoffs, so Chalmers joined his teammates at the arena to get their gear, where he exchanged what he considered somewhat awkward goodbyes with first Jonas, and then Cannon before he'd even started his vehicle to head for home . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

Resuming his push of the top edge of the key away from himself, Chalmers got the engine of his SUV started, but waited as Cannon reversed his car out of the adjacent stall and headed away, reading the familiar trio of letters, followed by a quartet of digits that made up Cannon’s license plate number, painted red on a white background with the name of the issuing province — Alberta — and its chosen license plate slogan written in blue.

Once he’d shifted his SUV into reverse, Chalmers manoeuvred out of the stall and headed after Cannon, whom he’d only follow so far as Regina before Cannon would take the Yellowhead, which would carry him to Sherwood Park by the end of the day while Chalmers carried on the Trans-Canada to Canmore.

Before he could get out of the parking area Chalmers was forced to brake and wait for a reversing pickup truck with a Minnesota license plate that Chalmers supposed was Colby Nicholson’s, as Chalmers didn’t recall there having been any other Minnesotans on the Wheat Kings this season.

While he waited, Chalmers again saw movement out his window. This time it was Ricky closing his SUV’s hatchback, which revealed his Alberta license plate mounted on the centre rear.

Looking over his shoulder, Ricky turned around and stepped close to Chalmers’ SUV, prompting Chalmers to roll down the window.

“Good luck at the Combine, and the Draft,” Ricky said.

“Hoping I get there,” Chalmers replied.

Ricky nodded and held up a fist. Chalmers bumped it.

“Good luck at Camp,” Chalmers said.

“If not, I’ll see you next year,” Ricky said. “Even if as an opponent instead of a teammate.”

“Maybe,” Chalmers said.

“There’s always your nineteen-year-old year to get drafted,” Ricky said.

Chalmers tilted his head in acknowledgement, but said nothing.

“And I do hope to see you in the NHL,” Ricky said. “A flash by it’s nature is short, meaning your talent is no flash in the pan, if anything, it’s the struggle that’s short-lived.”

“Glad somebody’s confident,” Chalmers said.

“I always want the best for my friends,” Ricky said. “And you’re still one of them.”

Moisture welled in Chalmers’ eyes as he nodded silently.

Ricky patted his shoulder and left without further comment. Chalmers rolled up his window as he released the brake and rolled forward, Colby’s pickup long gone from its place ahead of him.

Chalmers blinked at the tears in his eyes as he navigated the parking lot to its exit, but they didn’t want to be sent back again, so Chalmers pulled into a parking stall near the exit to dab them away with a tissue, which he also used to absorb the fluid that was making for his nose’s exits.

He honestly didn’t understand how his teammates could still have hope that he was going to still be playing hockey next year; that any team in the WHL would want him anywhere near them.

Next Post: 31 May

Descent into Ruin: Day 14

Word Count: 84,051

Summary of Events:

At the team practise the day after they beat Swift Current, Chalmers sabotaged Atkins' skate blades so they wouldn't stay locked in place, prompting Atkins to call him immature, which upset Chalmers; the two got into a shoving match that escalated into a fight, which ended with Atkins stumbling and falling. After being pulled off Atkins by Coach Seaborn, Chalmers knocked Coach Seaborn out with a punch to the face before seeing the horrified looks of his teammates. In a panic, Chalmers fled, intending to go home, but ended up getting pulled over by the police, and broke down in tears. The police took him home, deeming him unfit to drive, and Chalmers, emotionally drained, went to bed. The following morning he was roused by a call from Coach Seaborn, who told him Coach Leslie meant to bench him for the last game of the season, and all the first round of the playoffs, suggesting to Chalmers his career with the Wheat Kings was over . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

At this point, though, he’d alienated everyone, especially considering the way Ricky had looked at him yesterday afternoon. Tears went over the top of his lower eyelids and slid silently down his cheeks at the memory.

Never in his life had someone looked at him like that. Never. He’d seen in Ricky’s face and eyes not merely horror, but disconcertion, as if Ricky believed one of those soul-destroying aliens from horror movies so disturbing Chalmers recoiled at the sight of their trailers whenever they were foisted onto him had gotten into him and consumed who he really was.

Surely it wasn’t just his season and career with the Wheat Kings that were over, but his WHL career and any hope he could possibly have harboured of having an NHL career — despite the fact that Coach Seaborn believed him to have an automatic invite to the Combine.

There was no way the NHL would want to see him within ten hours’ drive of the event whereat all their top prospects were physically evaluated, as well as being interviewed by the teams.

Atkins would be there, after all, which would probably lead to fears that he might snap at Atkins again, but Chalmers didn’t know if it would really do any good. Even if Atkins was a jerk, Chalmers had no guarantees that Atkins had asked for a trade out of Tri-City, or to Brandon, or that he might possibly have done such a thing in an effort to torment Chalmers.

Tears poured from his eyes as Chalmers tried to wrap his head around the thought of his hockey career being over before it could even begin. His whole reason for living had been the dream of making it to the NHL. Never once had he considered an alternative to playing in the NHL. He didn’t even want to go and find a European league or team willing to take him. He wanted to play in the NHL. Not the KHL, not the DEL, the SHL, the Liiga, nor any other league that existed in Europe.

If he couldn’t play in the NHL, he saw no point in playing hockey at all, but if he wasn’t going to play hockey at all, then what was he going to do? Grandma had sold the farm, and Chalmers doubted she had the money necessary to buy it back.

Too, Chalmers knew nothing about farming. He’d not been old enough to learn when Grandma and Grandpa had run the farm, and he’d not put any effort into learning how to farm since then — nor would it have been easy, living in a city and all — so even if he could buy it back, it wasn’t like he could do anything with it.

His life, it seemed to him, was over, as if a nuclear bomb had been dropped on it unexpectedly, and now he wasn’t even twenty and all that he could see for a future around him was a wasteland of nuclear fallout.

Descent into Ruin: Day 13

Word Count: 78,239

Summary of Events:

Chalmers' prank against Atkins succeeded, and was followed up by an effort on Atkins' part to get back at Chalmers, but Chalmers thwarted his first effort — which was the exact same thing he'd done to Atkins — before being taken by Atkins' second effort, in which Atkins glued down the end on a roll of hockey tape, prompting Chalmers to write rude messages on Atkins' stick blades, which was noticed by an opposing goalie after Atkins scored, and forced Atkins to have to re-tape all his sticks or get a penalty for unsportsmanlike conduct. In the second-last game of the season, which could clinch the Wheat Kings a playoff spot if they won, Chalmers got into a fight with an opposing player that left them both sitting in the penalty boxes watching the game's final minutes elapse, during which the game became tied 3–3 . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

Despite their place at the bottom of the standings, the Broncos put up a stiff opposition, determined to get at least one point as they closed out their home schedule before fans who’d been subjected to what was undoubtedly a painful season to watch, and the 100 seconds ticked away without either team getting a goal.

Both teams assembled on their benches as the Zambonis came out to scrape the snow off the ice before the chosen trios went onto the ice. It was Ricky and Cannon for the Wheat Kings, along with, unsurprisingly, the best defenceman on the team.

Chalmers looked up at the clock. He had just over two minutes left to sit before his major penalty was served, same as the Bronco in the box across from him.

The puck was dropped and the fast-paced three-on-three overtime began with Ricky winning the faceoff, allowing the Wheat Kings to break in against the Broncos, who successfully repelled the attack and broke up the other way on Jonas, whose stop on the shot was so impressive that the fans — despite his being the opponent — actually cheered him, and even the Broncos gave him stick-taps for the incredible and acrobatic move.

Because he froze the puck, there was a faceoff, and Coach Leslie elected to trade Cannon for Atkins, prompting the Broncos’ head coach to make a reciprocal move before the puck was dropped.

Once again Ricky won the draw and he and Atkins rushed up the ice to attack the Broncos goal for a second time. Atkins fired the shot, stole the rebound from the Broncos defender before he could toss it up the ice to his teammates, and potted the rebound, which completed his hat trick and clinched the Wheat Kings their first playoff spot in three years.

Chalmers didn’t move from the bench even as the official in the box with him opened the door to let him out. He watched his teammates mob Atkins enthusiastically, all of them ecstatic about making the playoffs, while a token handful of hats were tossed on the ice by the Broncos fans to recognise Atkins’ third hat trick since he’d been traded to the Wheat Kings — he’d gotten none before the trade.

It was also Atkins’ fifth consecutive multi-point game, all of which served to leave Chalmers rather bitter, despite the achievement of the team, which was something which he had been diligently working toward from the beginning of his career with them, but failed to achieve.

Only after the official shrugged and shut the penalty box door before exiting the box through a separate exit did Chalmers get to his feet and exit the box, going directly to the dressing room, where he would be able to have some time alone with the hottest of water the showers could offer before his jubilant teammates came in and he had to find a way to feign jubilation with them.

Descent into Ruin: Day 12

Word Count: 72,273

Summary of Events:

Tanya informed Chalmers that she thought he was a selfish liar, informing him that she no longer wanted to be his girlfriend. That weekend Chalmers was sat out because of what he'd said about Coach Leslie, and watched to his extreme displeasure as Atkins Murynka had multi-point performances in both games. In an effort to get Atkins off his game, Chalmers replaced Atkins' electrolyte drink with a bottle of food-coloured vinegar before calmly going about his regular pregame warmup routine outside of the dressing room . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

He hadn’t been out there on his own long before Cannon joined him, but with a look that suggested he wanted to talk to Chalmers. Chalmers glared at him and concentrated even harder on what he was doing so as to ensure Cannon wouldn’t try talking to him.

“You and Tanya Harvey were a bit of a quiet thing, weren’t you?” Cannon asked nonetheless.

“You correctly put that in the past tense,” Chalmers replied tautly.

“So if I told you that I saw her having lunch with Atkins you wouldn’t be surprised?” Cannon asked.

“What!?” Chalmers snapped, rage exploding through his body more intensely than he had ever recalled it doing before.

“Oh,” Cannon said quietly.

“When?” Chalmers demanded.

“Every day this week we’ve been in school,” Cannon replied.

“Was it just the two of them?” Chalmers demanded.

“And her friend who’s dating LoKey,” Cannon replied. “So he was there too.”

Chalmers looked back at the wall he’d been facing, then looked down at his clenched fists, which he saw were each holding half of the resistance band that had been stretched between them before. A twinge of guilt at having wrecked the band passed through him, but didn’t linger.

“I didn’t mean to kind of just dump that on you,” Cannon said. “Was it recent?”

“Not even a week ago,” Chalmers replied, discarding the broken resistance band and taking up a new one.

“Oh,” Cannon said. “Sorry.”

“It’s no surprise,” Chalmers swore. “We’d been on the rocks practically all season because she doesn’t understand.”

“Understand what?” Cannon asked.

“She thinks I’ve been lying to her,” Chalmers spat. “If it weren’t for the fact that her parents hadn’t known we were an item she would’ve put out a big ‘me too’ post about it to try and ‘protect’ other girls from becoming my ‘victims’.”

“That doesn’t tell me what she didn’t understand,” Cannon said.

“Basically everything,” Chalmers replied. “She didn’t understand anything. She didn’t understand how horrid Coach Leslie is, that I was trying, anything.”

“You mean you’ve stopped trying now?” Cannon asked.

“I don’t have the energy to keep it up,” Chalmers replied. “I barely have the will to get out of bed because it just throws me back into the nightmare instead of getting me out of it.”

“I wish I knew what to do to help,” Cannon said. “But I really don’t know what to do.”

“Join the club,” Chalmers swore.

Cannon sighed, but thankfully said no more, allowing Chalmers to focus on his routine in hopes of being able to fix his mind on hockey, and on his determination to get a goal, and maybe even a couple more goals. Five sounded nice, even if there was no promo in the WHL that would net a lucky fan a million dollars for the feat like there was in the NHL; it would get his goal total into double digits, which was about all he could hope for at this point.

Descent into Ruin: Day 11

Word Count: 66,416

Summary of Events:

The Wheat Kings had their first practise after their road trip, where Chalmers learned that their new goalie was very flexible, and his mother was a retired figure skater,  as well as having his first official interaction with Atkins Murynka, who criticised Chalmers for his poor play, prompting Chalmers to rather loudly accuse Coach Leslie of being the source of his problems. As the practise had been watched by scouts and media, who heard Chalmers' accusations, the matter became significant news that left Chalmers to brood as even his comments clarifying that he was only upset at Coach Leslie hadn't arrested the turn of popular opinion in the media against him . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

Sure, there were some members of the media who were digging up tales from Victoria and elsewhere from disgruntled players who hadn’t liked Coach Leslie. One guy had even found a kid who’d quit playing WHL hockey because of Coach Leslie and moved to the BCHL, and was now a college standout for the University of BC. The majority, however, were inclined to believe that Chalmers was the problem.

He’d been labelled as stubborn, which wasn’t really an insult to him, if he was honest, as he’d been well aware of his own stubbornness for years, and it was something that Grandma and Grandpa both said he’d gotten from Grandpa, and all the MacKennas before him — not that Grandma’s forebears weren’t as staunchly and stubbornly Scottish as Grandpa’s.

More painfully, he’d been labelled as unreasonable, which suggested he was inattentive, which Chalmers personally didn’t believe he was. He wasn’t necessarily the most attentive person — Ricky, and even Jonas, from the time Chalmers had spent with him, were two people Chalmers would consider somewhat more attentive, at least to certain details, than he was — but he wasn’t oblivious, which he felt a person had to be in order to be unreasonable. To him, that was a better descriptor of Coach Leslie.

There were even others who accused him of being unwilling to change, and even questioned whether he would do well in the NHL if his first WHL coaching change had caused such a massive drop in is performance when it’d even happened during the offseason instead of mid-season as could happen in the NHL.

Some particularly unkind media personnel had suggested he was a player like Nail Yakupov, who had done good enough to be taken first overall, but had quickly faded into mediocrity and disappeared from the NHL with barely a whisper, or, worse yet, like Patrik Stepan, who was considered the worst first overall draft pick in NHL history.

Although he’d been drafted first overall, Stepan was best remembered for an infamous gaffe with the Dallas Stars where he’d gone in on an empty net in the dying seconds versus Edmonton and despite being on the edge of the crease, not only failed to ice the game by potting the puck into the yawning cage, but had actually fallen over. Edmonton, in turn, had swooped in on the puck, carried it up the ice, and scored the tying goal with a scant two seconds and change left on the clock.

As much as Chalmers had never really been expected to go first overall, he’d been expected to be a first-round pick, and players picked in the first round were, more often than not, virtually guaranteed a place on an NHL roster for at least a season or two, and nobody really wanted to have an infamous reputation such as Patrik Stepan had the misfortune of possessing.

Considering that Grandpa, Grandma, and Matt saw talent in Chalmers — talent that had been quite evident to everyone less than twelve months before — the fact that so many people were now calling him a flash in the pan or a dud hurt. Painfully.

Pronunciations:

Jonas: yohnahs

Nail: naheel

Yakupov: yahkoopawv

Descent into Ruin: Day 10

Word Count: 60,360

Summary of Events:

Chalmers remained a member of the Brandon Wheat Kings following the passing of the deadline, which left him with mixed feelings as the team set out on a road trip that started in Moose Jaw. On the way they stopped to pick up their new backup goalie from Regina, as he didn't have his driver's license yet, and they had to pass through Regina on the way to Moose Jaw anyways. Their second stop on the road trip was Saskatoon, where Chalmers watched as Slater — who'd been demoted to the second line in favour of Atkins Murynka, causing Chalmers to be dropped to the third line — scored a goal that he felt should've been his before he was sent out onto the ice and antagonised by Saskatoon's right winger who'd been sent out against him, but tried his best to ignore in hopes of being able to score a goal of his own . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

He’d just corralled the puck and turned to head up the ice when he was sent flying by a heavy blow he’d not been expecting. Going down onto his stomach, Chalmers quickly shoved himself to all fours and looked around to see the right winger had the puck.

Holding his stick at the very end, Chalmers swung his stick around to hit the right winger in the ankles, but the right winger saw it coming, jumped over it expertly, and fired the puck to one of his teammates.

Since Chalmers had been in possession of the puck when the hit had been made, it was considered legal, and Chalmers seethed at the fact as he got to his feet.

Soon the puck was fired back to the right winger, who was still close to Chalmers, who returned fire with fire and knocked the right winger over, taking control of the puck before breaking up the ice through the Blades defenders, who were left to chase after him, giving him a breakaway from his own blue line.

Chalmers accelerated toward the goalie, who set himself and was ready for whatever Chalmers might throw at him.

In an effort to beat the goalie, Chalmers pulled a move before he fired, but the goalie managed to deflect the puck straight up courtesy of the finest of fibres in the hockey tape wrapped in a golf ball-sized knob at the end of his stick.

Immediately Chalmers looked up, where the puck was visible against the ceiling of the arena as it flipped in the air, descending.

Chalmers shifted back to make sure that the puck didn’t come down on his head, but before the puck could come down low enough that any contact he made with it wouldn’t be considered striking the puck with a high stick, which caused the play to be called and a faceoff to be held, he was hit from behind with force.

Despite evasive manoeuvres he made, Chalmers ended up being sent straight into the Blades’ goaltender heavily.

Immediately upset, Chalmers scrambled away from the goalie as soon as he could and turned around to see the Blades’ right winger behind him.

Surging to his feet, Chalmers threw his gloves off and lunged at the right winger, seizing the golden yellow and royal blue jersey in one hand while he swung the other squarely for the nose.

Not expecting the blow, the right winger didn’t move to protect his nose, causing Chalmers to feel it shift under his hand. When he drew back his hand for another blow he saw blood already streaming from the right winger’s nostrils.

Chalmers flung several more blows at the right winger’s shoulder while the right winger recovered, tried to find a grip, and sought to land his own blows, only to lose his footing and go down, pulling Chalmers with him.

After landing a solid blow to the right winger’s solar plexus area while he was down, Chalmers let the intervening linesmen come between them and even haul him to his feet.

Descent into Ruin: Day 9

Word Count: 54,023

Summary of Events:

Chalmers shared a much more pleasant Christmas gathering with Matt's aunt and cousin who lived in Sidney — and felt more like family to him than his aunt, uncle, and cousins did — before returning to Brandon, where he participated in a practise with the team during which one of his teammates pretended to be a well-known hockey reporter interviewing his teammates with his stick blade doubling as a microphone in an act that even got the coaches laughing. Chalmers had just finished using the bathroom when he heard his cellphone ringing, but he was unable to answer it before it stopped . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

Quickly Chalmers redialled Cade’s number. Cade was probably his teammate who was most likely to call, but because they saw each other on a near-daily basis with the team, he didn’t actually call that often, suggesting it was something important.

“Hello?” Cade answered.

“Hey, sorry, I was in the bathroom and didn’t hit the green button fast enough,” Chalmers said.

“Well, thanks for replying right away, I didn’t really want to carry on down the list without having everyone in order,” Cade replied. “That’s the reason they’re in the order they’re in.”

“Is something up?” Chalmers asked, as Cade sounded unusually sober, and was even mumbling slightly.

He heard Cade breathing on the other end in a way that sounded like he was struggling to keep himself composed.

“I’ve been traded,” Cade replied.

Chalmers didn’t know what to say, what to think. Cade was about the best friend he’d ever had in his life. He’d not expected them to be separated like this.

“Where?” Chalmers finally managed to croak.

“Tri-City,” Cade replied. “Klim and Cummer too.”

“For who?” Chalmers asked.

“Atkins Murynka and Colby Nicholson,” Cade replied.

Chalmers couldn’t say he knew anything about Colby Nicholson, but he knew Atkins Murynka. Atkins was Manitoba-born, thus when he’d come to town last season — which had been his first visit to Brandon in his WHL career because the American teams only visited the Eastern Conference once every two years, the other year being the year the Eastern Conference teams went to visit them — there had been a significant cohort of Tri-City supporting fans in the stands.

“We’ve already played our game against them,” Chalmers said. “I’m not going to see you until the Combine.”

“I know,” Cade said. “I know.”

“Do you want me to come over?” Chalmers asked.

“Sure,” Cade replied.

“I’ll be there in five,” Chalmers said.

“Thanks,” Cade replied.

Chalmers ended the call and remained seated on his bed for a moment as a thought had just occurred to him; Atkins was a left wing. Either he was going to be on the move too, or he was going to suffer a demotion, as he doubted Slater was going to be bumped from the first line to the third line, unless Slater was being traded.

Pushing himself up off the bed, Chalmers woke up his cellphone to check the time, the deadline was 3:00 in the afternoon — just like in the NHL, even if the deadline itself was a month and a half earlier than the NHL’s deadline, seeing how the WHL season was 12 games shorter than that of the NHL.

His cellphone told him what he’d been sure of: there was still plenty of time left before 3:00 arrived. Plenty of time for him, too, to be traded.

The thought came to him that he might call Mr. Cragg to ask if he was going to get traded, but he had his doubts Mr. Cragg would have the time to field questions until after 3:00, as he was sure there was a decent amount of frenetic activity going on for Mr. Cragg until the League called time and all the dealing had to stop.

Descent into Ruin: Day 8

Word Count: 48,042

Summary of Events:

Chalmers headed home for Christmas, stopping for the night midway at Matt's house, despite his having not spoken to Matt since the call he'd made in the autumn; Matt had a serious talk with him that Chalmers didn't enjoy, but knew he wouldn't have been able to avoid. In BC Chalmers reluctantly participated in the family present opening where he only got one gift that, as usual, wasn't what he wanted, while his arrogant cousin Jack got five expensive gifts that were exactly what he wanted . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

The crown jewel of his gifts was a brand-new Canucks alternate jersey with custom name bar and number on the back. Chalmers had to admit, it was a nice jersey — he’d never minded the Canucks’ blue and green looks — but soon enough he’d have an NHL jersey with his name and number on the back, and nobody he knew would even have paid for it, it would be his to wear in NHL games, not merely at NHL games.

“That… makes twelve,” Jack bragged, holding it up so the back, with its Hackett name bar and number 14, his current favourite number, was facing Chalmers.

“I actually play hockey in my jerseys,” Chalmers replied.

“But none of those are NHL jerseys,” Jack sneered.

“I’ll have one in June,” Chalmers replied. “And nobody’ll even have to buy it for me.”

Jack looked irritated at that remark.

“Sweetheart,” Grandma whispered chidingly.

Chalmers glanced at her and saw her distress. She detested the way he and Jack treated each other. He looked back at Jack.

“You’ll even be seeing my photos on official NHL social medias without my having to post them, or even have accounts on the platforms,” Chalmers added. “And then I’ll be on the ice with the jersey on, with no less than fifteen thousand people cheering me on, as I compete side-by-side with and against seasoned NHLers, cementing myself as one of them.”

“In your dreams,” Jack growled. “I know how your season’s going. You’re not going to get picked at all.”

“It hasn’t been that bad,” Chalmers spat.

Grandma’s hand touched his knee, communicating desperation.

“Deny it all you want,” Jack said. “But I knew you wouldn’t have what it took.”

“You never even got to the level I’m at,” Chalmers said. “Since when does that make you an expert?”

“I don’t need to have gotten to the NHL to see that you’re not going to make it,” Jack replied.

“That’s what you think,” Chalmers snapped, surging to his feet and turning to leave the room with his t-shirts.

“I’m going to paint ‘I told you so’ on the walls of your bedroom when you don’t get picked in the Draft,” Jack said. “Then your precious jerseys with your name on them won’t mean so much, will they?”

Chalmers turned to look at Jack.

“I earned my jerseys,” Chalmers replied. “And I promise you that I haven’t earned the last one yet.”

“You can’t possibly have forgotten that I played organised hockey too,” Jack said, having shot to his feet. “I earned jerseys too.”

“Not as many as I have, or will,” Chalmers replied.

“And who says I haven’t earned jerseys people have bought for me?” Jack demanded.

“They weren’t given to you to make you the member of a team,” Chalmers replied. “They just show that you’re a fan of a team, but you’re not good enough to be on it.”

“You really think you’re better than me?” Jack demanded, stalking across the floor to stand close enough to Chalmers that he needed to tilt his head up to see Chalmers’ eyes instead of staring at his mouth.

“I don’t have to think it,” Chalmers replied. “It’s been proven.”

Descent into Ruin: Day 7

Word Count: 42,019

Summary of Events:

Chalmers gave Tanya a foot massage in an effort to make up with her for their argument, as he was starting to feel lonely without her companionship, and was successful. Playing against the Lethbridge Hurricanes, Chalmers was hit hard enough to dislocate a rib, forcing him to sit out the rest of the game. Nevertheless, the team trainer approved him to skate with the team ahead of their next game, against the Regina Pats, whose starting goalie had nearly died in a horrific accident on his way to training camp the season before, but who, according to reports, was finally back skating again . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

“If he’s only skating now, though,” Cade said. “He’s probably not going to be back for awhile yet, if he returns this season at all.”

“Well, I don’t know,” KJ said. “They could be keeping it all under wraps like they did with his return.”

“Don’t we know it,” Cannon said.

“Oh, yeah, it was… ‘us’ wasn’t it?” KJ asked.

“Without you, but yeah,” Ricky replied.

“That was the only time they deserved to beat us all season,” Chalmers said.

“Yeah, otherwise we should’ve totally won,” Cannon agreed.

“I heard the call of the radio guy afterwards,” KJ said. “I just about cried.”

“Yeah, we heard he didn’t even get told,” Cade said. “Considering we got a little bit of forewarning, I was a little surprised.”

“He was screaming for people to pull over, stop what they were doing, sit down, anything, because he was back,” KJ said. “I’m just about wanting to cry thinking about it.”

“Yeah, yeah, actually,” Cade said, rubbing one of his eyes too.

“Just to think about it hits you right here,” Ricky said, putting his fist against his heart. “Because it’s like, ‘could’ve been me’.”
Chalmers nodded, a lump of anxiety swelling within him at the thought of what might happen to Grandma if he were to suffer the same sort of accident. He was sure Matt would be right by his side to help him find something else to do with his life because Matt had been destined for the NHL until he’d taken a high stick in the eyeball, so he knew what it was like.

Grandma, though, needed him to stay fit, healthy, and make it to the NHL, because if he didn’t make it to the NHL she was doomed to even more time yet living with Uncle Sterling and Aunt Jean, and so was he.

The thoughts upset Chalmers and, since he was dressed ahead of the rest, owing to his head start, he left the room. He needed to clear his head. He didn’t want to think those kinds of thoughts, especially not in his draft season when he was so close to the NHL he could just about touch it — in fact, he already had.

When they’d gone to Winnipeg to play the Ice for the first time in Chalmers’ WHL career, he and some teammates had taken a walk down to Bell MTS Place, the Winnipeg Jets’ home arena, and had toured around the part they didn’t need tickets to access, and last season, because one of the guys had been drafted by the Jets — in fact, he was playing for them this season — he’d taken them to the Jets’ practise rink where they’d watched the practise and even been able to chat with a couple of the guys, particularly WHL grads.

Chalmers stepped out onto the ice, which was clean and pristine, having been freshly treated by the Zamboni, and surged around the ice as fast as he could, as if by doing so he could outrun his fears and anxieties despite the fact that they existed within him, and weren’t ghostly spectres hovering outside of him.

Descent into Ruin: Day 6

Word Count: 36,141

Summary of Events:

On their first road trip of the season to Alberta, nearly a month in, Chalmers finally scored his first goal and point of the season; unfortunately, over the course of the road trip he also eclipsed the amount of minutes in penalties he'd accumulated over the whole of the previous season, leaving him sorely dispirited as the team headed home, fearing he would even miss out on the Under-20 World Championships that, last season, it had been suggested he'd be playing in without a doubt. His closest friend on the team, the backup goaltender, noticed this, and tried to pick up his spirits . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

Cade sighed. “Don’t you want to play in the NHL?”
“Yeah,” Chalmers replied.

“Then why aren’t you trying to pad your résumé?” Cade asked. “NHL teams pay more attention to the guys who’ve gone to the World Juniors and stuff.”

“I have a goal, four assists, and eighty penalty minutes,” Chalmers replied. “This isn’t the eighties. I don’t think they’re looking for that.”

“We have, probably, a good fifteen games between now and then, I’m sure you can right the ship and show there’s just as much scoring potential in you as there was last season, even if it’s been a rough start,” Cade said.

“I have more penalty minutes than I got last season,” Chalmers said. “I’m nearly to the point of accumulating more penalty minutes in a season than I’ve ever done in one single season of organised hockey. It’s not even Christmas.”

“I know,” Cade said. “But, well, like, if you’ve been able to score lots and not get a lot of penalties before, you should be capable of doing it again, no?”

“No,” Chalmers replied. “Apparently not.”

“Why?” Cade asked.

“Don’t ask me,” Chalmers replied. “I don’t know.”

“Well, then who should I ask?” Cade asked.

“Coach Leslie,” Chalmers replied.

“I don’t think he has a clue what’s going on with you,” Cade said. “He seems kind of frustrated with you, if I’m honest.”

“It’s his fault,” Chalmers said.

“Are you sure?” Cade asked.

“You don’t think I’m actually trying to shipwreck my season, do you?” Chalmers demanded, feeling upset at the very thought.

“Well, I would hope not,” Cade replied. “Considering you’re getting a lot more chance to show what you’ve got than I am, even if I’m not going to rant about riding the hot hand when we’re in the position we’re in. Nevertheless, I don’t feel like you’re helping yourself all that much.”

“Why?” Chalmers asked.

“You’re not even trying,” Cade replied. “As long as I’ve known you — which, granted, isn’t necessarily all that long — you’ve been the sort of guy who puts it all out there. When the game is done, we know there’s nothing more we could’ve asked of you. This season I feel like we might be lucky if we’ve gotten a blood sample’s worth out of you.”

“It would help if I was getting a chance,” Chalmers snapped.

“How much of a chance do you need?” Cade asked, sounding a bit irritated in turn.

Chalmers glared out the window.

“Is this just because you’re not on the first line or what?” Cade asked. “You’re out there on a regular basis. It’s not like you’re benched or scratched or anything.”

“Guaranteed there’s no second line that plays less than this one,” Chalmers said. “I bet every fourth line in the League plays more than we do.”

“You’re telling this to a guy who’s been riding pine for almost ten games now,” Cade said. “Even if you play two minutes a game it’s better than me.”

Annoyed, Chalmers shifted so he was somewhat facing the window in his seat. If Cade was discontent with how little he was playing, then maybe he shouldn’t have decided he wanted to be a goalie. It wasn’t his fault Cade wasn’t playing.

Descent into Ruin: Day 5

Word Count: 30,022

Summary of Events:

Chalmers watched from the bench as the Wheat Kings played against the Moose Jaw Warriors, feeling hurt when the left-winger who'd replaced him on the top line scored a goal, as he felt that goal should have been his, because he should've been on the top line. Seeking advice, Chalmers called his former coach, Matt, who, although sympathetic and willing to help, nevertheless struck Chalmers as not being as sympathetic or willing to help as he wanted Matt to be . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

“Chalmers, you’re so distracted,” Matt said. “Just focus. Focus on playing your game, focus on doing your best, focus on making the necessary improvements. This is going to do you good. You’re going to be a better NHLer because of it. Focus on that.”

“I don’t know how,” Chalmers said.

“Don’t give me that,” Matt said. “You know how to focus. Why don’t you want to?”

“I do!” Chalmers snapped.

“Then do it,” Matt said. “I shouldn’t have to tell you how. You already know. I know you do.”

“But I don’t understand what he wants!” Chalmers cried.

“That’s not what you need to do,” Matt said firmly. “You need to focus on doing your thing, playing your game. He’s gotten into your head. I don’t know how, I don’t know why, but you need to get him out of your head. Yes he’s the head coach, but you’re taking that too far, like I said, you’re overthinking. Stop fussing about him. Focus on doing your part to make the team better. That’s what you’re supposed to be doing. Do it. I bet he even would like it if you did that.”

“But how?” Chalmers asked.

“The exact same way you’ve done it before,” Matt replied firmly. “You’ve never fussed about it before, you’ve never worried about it before, it’s come naturally to you. Let it do it again. If necessary, go skate somewhere on your own and clear your head.”

“I was meeting one-on-one with Coach Seaborn, but Coach Leslie said that wasn’t allowed because it was ‘wearing me out’ before the main practises,” Chalmers replied. “I wish Coach Seaborn were in charge. I like him better. He appreciates what I have to offer.”

“I’m glad there’s somebody you like,” Matt said.

“I like everybody except Coach Leslie,” Chalmers replied. “He’s the problem. Everybody else is fine. Everybody. He’s the one who needs to go.”

“Is that a unified consensus?” Matt asked.

“No,” Chalmers replied. “There’s guys on the team that actually like him.”

“You’re against him,” Matt replied. “That’s not good.”

“Why?” Chalmers asked.

“He’s your coach,” Matt replied. “You guys are on the same team. You’re not supposed to be at loggerheads.”

“I know,” Chalmers said. “And I can’t do anything about it.”

“Yes you can Chalmers,” Matt said. “And you know it.”

“No, I can’t,” Chalmers replied. “You’re not even listening to me!”

“Chalmers,” Matt said firmly.

“No!” Chalmers snapped. “Leave me alone!”

He snatched his cellphone away from his head, ended the call, and slammed his cellphone down onto his bed before throwing himself down across the comforter and screaming into the cotton and polyester beneath him. Not even Matt seemed to comprehend what was going on.

Hearing his cellphone ring, Chalmers looked at it. It was Matt. He declined the call and held the power button before completely powering off his cellphone. If Matt wasn’t going to offer him any help, then he didn’t want to talk to him.

Descent into Ruin: Day 4

Word Count: 24,089

Summary of Events:

Chalmers called his grandma in an effort to get his mind off his growing frustrations, only to have them come rushing back at him as soon as the call was over. The first game of the regular season arrived, and Chalmers found himself feeling quite hurt to not be on the top line, nor was he made to feel any better when he got called for a penalty when he'd just been trying to block a pass, and the opposing team succeeded in scoring almost immediately on the man advantage. During the following week Chalmers was enjoying some autumn sun when his girlfriend came out to chat with him about hockey, which led to conversation about Coach Leslie, and what Chalmers saw as his stubborn refusal to be pleased about anything . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

“I wouldn’t call him grumpy,” Tanya said.

“Why not?” Chalmers demanded.

“He just looks serious, determined,” Tanya replied. “He’s got a goal, and he’s driven to see the team accomplish it.”

“It’d be nice if he told us what the goal was,” Chalmers muttered.

“It’s probably the same goal you have,” Tanya replied.

“I’ve told you, my goal is to be drafted well, how does he think screwing me over is going to help me be drafted well?” Chalmers demanded profanely. “That’s my goal this season, is to make sure I impress the scouts and get drafted. He’s not helping that at all.”

“Well, don’t you have the goal of making the playoffs?” Tanya asked.

“Yeah,” Chalmers replied. “But that’s not really my main goal.”

“Well, that was the goal I was thinking of,” Tanya said, sounding upset.

“O and two is a great start to get into the playoffs,” Chalmers said with sarcastic enthusiasm.

“You guys did really good in the preseason,” Tanya said.

“Too bad it didn’t count then,” Chalmers said. “We’d actually have points on the season.”

“I’m sure you guys aren’t going to have an O and sixty eight season,” Tanya said.

“No we could get, you know, O, two, thirty three, and thirty three, which would give us sixty six points, which might even get us into the playoffs unless Swift Current is the only team that does worse than us,” Chalmers replied.

“Good grief!” Tanya exclaimed, slapping the armrest of the Adirondack chair she was sitting in. “Why are you being so negative? You’re calling Coach Leslie a grouch! You’re a grouch! Why?”

“Why do you think?” Chalmers asked.

“I don’t know!” Tanya exclaimed. “Here I’m trying to pick you up out of the dumps and you’re throwing it at me! Whatever reason you have for being upset is not obvious.”

“I’ve been repeating it over and over as we’ve been sitting here talking!” Chalmers exclaimed.

“I haven’t heard any repetitive theme other than that everything is horrible and, like, there’s no chance it’ll ever get better,” Tanya replied.

“Well, then you obviously weren’t listening!” Chalmers snapped.

“It’s kind of hard to want to listen to somebody gripe all the time!” Tanya snapped back. “Like, seriously! Are you going to actually tell me what the problem is or what?”

“I didn’t think you were this dense,” Chalmers muttered.

“Dense!” Tanya exclaimed. “I’m not dense! Why do you have to attack me?”

“I’m not attacking you!” Chalmers retorted.

“Yes you are!” Tanya screamed, tears appearing in her eyes almost as fast as a room got bright when its light was turned on. “You’re so selfish!”

Chalmers winced at the pain as she threw her can at him before turning and running to the back door.

Part of him wanted to call after her and clear things up, but a larger part of him was sorely indignant to think that Tanya had completely missed when he’d told her his problem: Coach Leslie was seemingly bent to ruin his season and he didn’t know why.

Descent into Ruin: Day 3

 Word Count: 18,287

Summary of Events:

Chalmers, to his disappointment, started the preseason on the second line, but was heartened by the fact that he scored two goals on his first shift of the preseason against a team that had soundly beat the Wheat Kings in every single game they'd played against one another in recent seasons. The following two preseason games didn't go so well, and Chalmers in general felt frustrated and disheartened, as Coach Leslie ordered him and Coach Seaborn to stop having extra one-on-one sessions, which Chalmers had been enjoying, and still didn't seem to view him with anything outside of contempt. During the warmup for another day of training camp, Chalmers ended up colliding with one of the goalies, whose helmet's jaw ended up scraping Chalmers' jaw as they disentangled, prompting Chalmers to take a moment in front of the net to investigate . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

Bringing his hand away revealed bright red blood that, as Chalmers had observed from his earliest boyhood days, was practically the same shade of red as was the main colour of the Montréal Canadiens’ home jerseys.

“Are you okay Chalmers?” Coach Seaborn asked urgently.

“Finn’s helmet just scraped me, I’m fine,” Chalmers muttered.

“You’re bleeding like a stuck pig,” Coach Seaborn said. “You should maybe go see Gunn about that.”

With a reluctant sigh, Chalmers abandoned his stick and glove on the net and skated over to the bench, crossing the area his teammates were skating across only when there was a suitable gap.

Eddie Gunn, the team’s athletic therapist, was waiting for him with a gauze pad already out of its paper packaging. He pressed it onto Chalmers’ jaw firmly, his blue-latex-gloved thumb balancing his hand by resting on Chalmers’ throat.

“Did Finn scrape you with his helmet as he was getting up?” Eddie asked.

“Mm hm,” Chalmers replied so he wouldn’t have to move his jaw.

Relieving pressure on the pad, Eddie removed it and examined the wound.

“He certainly got you good,” Eddie said.

Discarding the blood-soaked pad, Eddie turned to his medical bag and fetched a fresh one that was also thicker, as well as his medical tape. He secured the pad to Chalmers’ jaw expertly.

“We’ll see how long that lasts,” Eddie said. “You’re feeling alright otherwise?”

“From a medical standpoint,” Chalmers replied, doing his best to move his jaw as little as possible to prevent the medical tape from pulling on his skin.

“You certainly have seemed to be struggling this camp,” Eddie said, sitting down beside him and passing him a water bottle.

Chalmers took a drink, and sighed as he watched his teammates skate around.

“Is your grandma doing alright?” Eddie asked.

Chalmers nodded.

“Is there something else that’s got you off your game?” Eddie asked.

“The scowling thing in the tracksuit,” Chalmers replied.

“Oh,” Eddie said. “I’m sorry the two of you’ve gotten off on a bad foot.”

“We got off on a foot?” Chalmers asked dryly.

Eddie chuckled, but then sobered. “Well, I do seriously hope that the two of you can figure it out.”

“It’d be easier to learn Arabic,” Chalmers replied.

“I think you’re smarter than that,” Eddie said. “Even if you haven’t figured out what Eddie’s short for any more than anyone else has.”

“I’m sure that’d be easier than figuring him out,” Chalmers said.

“Come on, don’t beat yourself up like this,” Eddie said. “You’re brain isn’t even done developing yet, and it can’t go to pot until after that, that means you’ve got plenty of smarts in there to figure things out.”

“If you say so,” Chalmers muttered.

“I don’t think I was hearing things when I thought I heard Finn say Eeyore,” Eddie said. “You really seem in an Eeyorish mood. Have you even smiled since you scored those two goals?”

Chalmers couldn’t say that he had, nor did he want to, there was nothing worth smiling about.