Chapter 12: Operation Dumbbell Ninja
Jake tiptoed through the back entrance, hugging a roll of mats to his chest like a secret agent on a covert mission.
Behind him, Alex carried a massive squat rack on his shoulder like it was a backpack.
"You're sure no one's around?" Jake whispered.
Alex nodded. "It's midnight. They're either asleep or watching anime."
They crept down the stairs toward the gym's storeroom. That's when Jake's foot caught on a step.
Thump!
Jake let out a strangled cry. "ARGHHH! It really broke my spine!"
Alex tried not to laugh, almost dropping a dumbbell plate. "Your idea. You must endure it."
"I'm never trusting my brain again," Jake hissed, rubbing his back.
They finally made it down, stacking equipment neatly—yoga mats, hiking ropes, water containers, even some outdoor cooking gear Jake "borrowed" from an old friend.
As they carried the last batch in, Jake stumbled, crashing into a pile of towels.
A sleepy gym member wandered in, blinking. "Huh? Was that a ghost?"
Alex threw a towel over Jake's head. "Just the wind."
Once the member left, Jake peeked out from the towel. "We're basically gym ninjas at this point."
Alex rolled his eyes. "Clumsy ninjas."
Jake got up, nudged Alex, and suddenly tackled him in a half-hug, half-body-check. "Say that again, big guy!"
Alex laughed, shoving him off. "You wanna go?"
They ended up chasing each other around the gym like overgrown kids. Everyone still there—some lifting, some chatting—paused to watch the commotion, then burst into laughter.
Jake finally flopped onto the floor. "We did it."
Alex sat beside him, nodding. "Everything's ready. All that's left is picking the date… and announcing it."
Jake shot up. "I got it! Another flyer!"
Alex groaned immediately. "No. Everyone's already sick of your flyers. I saw one stuffed into a protein jar."
Jake gasped in mock pain. "My flyers are inspirational masterpieces! You wound me."
Alex crossed his arms. "You want to make it special, right? Then it can't be the same as usual."
Jake narrowed his eyes. "Fine. Why don't you announce it, Mr. Gym Owner?"
Alex smirked. "Maybe I will."
They stared at each other.
Jake stood. "Sparring match. Winner decides how we announce it."
Alex cracked his neck. "You're on."
Jake slipped into a mix of silat and boxing—smooth footwork, clever feints, a few well-aimed jabs.
Alex responded with Taekwondo kicks and basic wrestling throws.
And while Jake had heart, Alex had… muscle mass the size of motorcycles.
Jake lasted three minutes before he found himself on the mat, wheezing. "Tell… my flyers… I loved them."
Alex laughed, helping him up. "I win. I'll announce it."
Jake gave a thumbs-up from the floor. "Just… say it with passion."
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Later that night, they circled the date on the wall calendar.
Newcomer Day: Starts in 5 days.
Alex looked over the event notes Jake made, complete with doodles of smiling stick-people lifting weights.
He smiled.
It was almost time.