The Gym Club: Bars and Beams: A Mia and Niki Story

By J. P. Daniels

Rocky Mount Gymnastics team member Niki Fowler is unexpectedly removed from the team and away from her best friend, Mia Allen, by Niki's dad, Deputy Sheriff Nick Fowler. His reason for moving Niki to another gym is kept secret from Mia and Niki. In no time, Niki falls behind her former teammates. Discouraged, Niki is ready to give up gymnastics, forcing Mia to try to help her friend, but her good deed causes big trouble for Niki at her new gym. Fearing that Niki will quit gymnastics, Mia convinces her dad, Ric Allen, who coached Niki at RMG, to help Niki improve her gymnastics skills. When he agreed, they created the Gym Club. Rule number 1 of Gym Club is "You don't talk about Gym Club." The secret of Gym Club is kept until a slip of the tongue by Niki, creating new problems with her father. More than anything, Niki wants to return to RMG and her friends on the team, especially Mia, but her dad stubbornly keeps her away. Something major has to happen to get him to change his mind and see that he is hurting his only child.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jan 8, 2024
• ISBN: 9781685700409

Book preview

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The Gym Club: Bars and Beams

A Mia and Niki Story

J. P. Daniels

ISBN 978-1-68570-039-3 (paperback)

ISBN 978-1-68570-040-9 (digital)

Copyright © 2023 by J. P. Daniels

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Prologue

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Twenty-Three

Twenty-Four

Twenty-Five

Twenty-Six

Twenty-Seven

Twenty-Eight

Twenty-Nine

Thirty

Thirty-One

Thirty-Two

Thirty-Three

Thirty-Four

Thirty-Five

Thirty-Six

Thirty-Seven

Thirty-Eight

Thirty-Nine

Forty

About the Author

And why do you see the speck in your neighbor's eye,

but do not see the beam in your own?

Matthew 7:3

Prologue

A cloud of chalk dust hung in the air at the far end of the vault runway as the US gymnast chalked her hands, and the bottoms of her feet. Finding her spot on the runway, she waited for the judge's salute. The gymnast planned to do a Yurchenko double full. Her coach, Ric Allen, stood eighty feet away by the vault table.

Layout Yurchenko

While waiting, Ric surveyed the packed arena. All around, TV cameras caught each event from every angle. The media section overflowed with reporters and buzzed with activity. Reporters recorded every word while photographers snapped pictures of all four events.

Coaches readied the equipment for their gymnasts. The US team prepared to compete on vault, the Romanians on beam, the Russians on bars, and the Chinese on floor exercise.

The Olympic rings hung throughout the arena. Electronic scoreboards displayed the names and numbers of the gymnasts. Dozens of coaches and gymnasts milled around on their event, one coach and one gymnast, waited on the podium to begin their Olympic experience.

Competition began on bars and floor, but beam and vault continued to wait.

What's taking them so long? Ric wondered.

Finally, the judge saluted the American girl at the end of the vault runway. She returned the salute, showing a gap-toothed smile.

What happened to her teeth, Ric thought. Then he noticed, That's Mia. He looked on in horror as his blonde-haired, blue-eyed five-year-old darted down the runway. Anticipation grew as the little girl neared the vault table. No one seemed to notice that she was five and wore a Disney Princess leotard. Before he could stop her, she struck the board and performed a squat over, a beginner vault. She turned and saluted the judges. Ric ran to pull his child off the mat when the crowd erupted in cheers. Ric stopped, slack-jawed, while the judges judged the vault. The other coaches and gymnasts ran toward them to congratulate Mia on her wonderful vault.

Mia jumped into her dad's arms. I did it, Daddy, I did it, she squealed as the crowd surrounded them. That wasn't an Olympic vault. She did a squat over, he insisted. No one heard him. They acted as if the five-year-old had performed a highly difficult Olympic vault. The score flashed, 15.8. The crowd roared again. Mia won the gold medal. The big Russian coach slapped Ric on the back and said something in Russian. Ric knew it meant fantastic even though he did not speak Russian.

With that slap, Ric awoke and realized he had been dreaming. His wife of thirteen years, Cecilia, called Cece, remained asleep. Just beyond his wife, the alarm clock glowed its blue numbers: 6:45 a.m., fifteen minutes before the alarm would sound. Moving the covers back, he swung his legs over the side of the bed. A gold medal for a squat over. He laughed and shook his head. I have to write that one down, he whispered to himself.

One

Ric Allen, a 5'8 " tall Caucasian man with dirty blond hair and hazel eyes, sat on the edge of his bed, admiring how the morning sun shone through the decades-old trees guarding the back of his property. He stood slowly so he would not wake Cece. He let her sleep the last few minutes before the alarm would sound. Quietly, he padded to the window. The streams of light that made it through the trees highlighted the wisps of fog that hovered above the backyard. Looking out the window reminded him of his honey-do list: Fix the shed door, power wash the patio, repair the picnic table.

Today, however, his mind was elsewhere. Today was the seventh anniversary of his release from prison. Ric did his time in a low-security correctional institution for fourteen months. Not one minute of it did he deserve. Except for being away from Cece and his son, Blake, his life there was tolerable.

Ric Allen had a good relationship with everyone he met, inmates, as well as the correctional officers (COs). There was one CO, however, Nicholas T. Fowler, with whom he butted heads. Nick was a 6'2" tall African American man who weighed about 350 pounds. The inmates called him Tiny, which he was not. Ric remembered how he used to tease Tiny about his size. He knew it was wrong to be mean to CO Fowler but was angry at being where he knew he did not belong.

Tiny insisted the inmates do things exactly the way he demanded. Not living up to his expectations could mean trouble. The CO seemed to enjoy insulting Ric, trying to embarrass him in front of the other inmates. But to be fair, Ric embarrassed Tiny with his fat jokes.

*****

Ric marveled at how his life had changed over the last seven years. Thirty-five years old now, he had a twelve-year-old son, Blake. His daughter, Mia, had not been thought of seven years ago. She is almost six and finishing kindergarten. Cece has her own successful interior design business, and Ric, a gymnast in college, now teaches and coaches at a local gymnastics club, Rocky Mount Gymnastics Academy or RMG.

For a few years after his release, Ric held a deep resentment toward Nick Tiny Fowler and the people who put him in prison. Cece tried to help Ric let go of the anger and forgive, but it was an uphill battle. The turning point came when his little girl arrived. Before her baptism, the pastor asked Ric a question, How do you want to raise this child, in anger and hatred or in the love of Christ? Shouldn't she be held in the arms of a father who remembers how to love? From that day forward, the anger lessened, until overtime, it faded away altogether. Ric embraced his new daughter and his whole family with the peace that comes with forgiveness.

Two

The alarm went off, snapping Ric out of his trip down memory lane. Cece's hand shot out fast as a cobra and shut off the shrill piercing alarm. Up and around in seconds, she said, I'm going to shower. Please get Mia up for gym, and get Blake up for soccer. She disappeared into the bathroom.

Ric opened his twelve-year-old's door. Blake, time to get up. The boy rolled over with a grunt. I'll come back later, Ric thought. Moving down the hall, he approached his daughter's room. Mia, like her mother, is a morning person, full of energy and fast as a little cobra. Mia is a small girl, even for a five-year-old. She has straight blonde hair that hangs down the middle of her back below her shoulder blades. Her sparkling blue eyes and her gap-toothed smile reflect her love of life. By the time Ric got to her room, she was awake and in the bathroom, brushing her teeth. The lively little girl loved Saturdays—gymnastics day. Ric made sure his little ball of energy cleaned up, then he sent her to get her leotard on. She chose her favorite leotard, dark blue with white stripes, and came down to breakfast. Ric sat at the table, eating his Cheerios. Cece, a second behind Mia, followed her down the stairs.

Your leo is on backward, Cece told her daughter for the millionth time.

Again? the girl said, throwing her arms up in the air and letting them flopped down to her sides, then she ran back upstairs to change.

Someday she'll get it right. Ric laughed. In seconds, Mia changed and flew back down the stairs to the kitchen. She dug into the bowl of cereal her dad had poured for her.

Finished with her cereal, Ric's little fireball sat at the table, fidgeting. Sweetie, Ric said, we don't have to leave for the gym for thirty minutes.

But I'm ready to go now.

Should I go in my pajamas? Ric asked, holding his hands out to the side.

Well, go get ready, Daddy, the eager five-year-old demanded.

Okay, okay. Ric bowed to the pressure and trudged upstairs to shower and dress.

While your dad is getting ready, why don't you go get your brother up? Cece suggested to the five-year-old. Then she added, Gently this time.

With a mischievous look in her eyes, Mia bolted up the stairs on all fours like an animal. Bursting into her brother's room, she jumped on his bed. Mom says to get up, she cried as she bounced. Mom says to get up. Twelve-year-old Blake grabbed the pillow from behind his head and threw it at his little sister.

Get out of here, you little pest, he growled. The playful girl threw the pillow back at him. Mom says to get up. Jumping off his bed, she landed as softly as a butterfly on the carpeted floor.

I'm up, he snapped, pulling the pillow over his face. Mia laughed and ran from the room. As hard as he tried, Blake could not get mad at Mia. He adored his little sister, as she did him.

He's awake, Mia announced on her return to the kitchen.

Did you wake him gently?

Of course, the girl answered with same mischievous glint in her eyes.

Really?

He likes when I wake him that way.

Just then, a voice croaked from upstairs, I'm gonna get you.

See, I told ya, he loves it.

You better be ready when your father gets down here, Cece warned.

I am ready.

Really? You're in a leotard. The child tilted her head as if she didn't get the problem. Socks. Shoes. Sweats and a jacket. It is still winter, young lady.

But it's almost springtime.

Do you want to be late for gym? Cece asked.

Mia hated being late, so Cece would use the threat of lateness until her five-year-old learned to tell time. She darted up to her room where she finished dressing. Ten minutes later, Ric returned to the kitchen.

Let's go, Daddy, the anxious child urged, taking her dad's hand and dragging him to the door.

My keys, Ric said.

I have them, Mia said, holding them up with her other hand.

Ric laughed and picked up his five-year-old. Okay, let's go then. He stopped and called back to Cece, Remember, I'll be late today. We have that first aid and CPR certification class today. So you'll have to pick Mia up at twelve.

Okay, I'll be there, Cece acknowledged as father and daughter disappeared out the door.

Three

Twenty minutes later, Ric and Mia pulled into RMG's parking lot. Since Ric worked at the gym, he parked behind the building, leaving space out front for the paying customers. The excited child jumped from the car, barely waiting for her dad to stop, and ran to the backdoor.

Week after week, the kindergartner repeated this ritual, even though the door was heavy and hard to open, and she had to wait for her dad. Once Ric opened the door, Mia ran inside to the team lockers along the back wall of the gym. If there was an unused locker, Dak, the gym's owner, allowed her to put her stuff in it.

Can I get my name on a locker? she asked her dad.

Are you on the team? Ric asked.

Not yet, but I will be.

"Once you earn your way onto the team, then you'll earn a locker