Michelle "Mickey" Gregg is an undercover cop for the Jump Street Program. She has been working with Doug Penhall, Judy Hoffs, and Harry Ioki for two years. Her new partner, Tom Hanson, joins the team and these are their cases.
Revolved around the 1...
The sounds of the bowling balls striking the pins in the bowling alley made me jump the first few times I heard them because of how loud they were. The alley smelled like greasy food and beer. The harsh fluorescent lights were not ideal, but Tom looked like he was in his element. He kept shouting, "another slamarino" every time he knocked all the pins down at once.
The entire team decided to go bowling for our first night out with our new Captain. Tom was absolutely elated, and he remembered when I revealed that I had never gone bowling before, so he was very excited to teach me.
I sat next to Tom as he was recording the scores by hand. He had his reading glasses on, and stayed focused on making sure he got everyone's number in his little booklet. I looked over his shoulder, he was writing down the date, location, time, lane, everyone's ball and shoe size, scores, he had a diagram of the pins and he would shade the ones that were knocked down, and he was scribbling little notes along the way. I nudged him as I asked, "is it like golf? The lowest score is the winner?"
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Tom closed his little book and leaned back and looked at me before he answered, "no, you want to get as many pins down as you can. A strike is what you're aiming for."
"A strike is when you knock all the pins down, right?" I asked.
"That's right." He smiled.
"And a spare is getting a few down the first time, and the rest down the second try?"
"Right."
"Is it possible to get two strikes in a row?" I asked.
Tom nodded and took a fry and ate it as Doug was taking his turn. "That's called a double."
"Is three called a triple?"
Tom shook his head. "It's called a turkey."
I laughed, "be serious."
"I am!" He said.
"Strike!" Doug shouted. He pumped his fist in the air before pointing to Tom and said, "write that down."
"I am," Tom said and opened his book again to record the score.
Another sound of the pins cracking against the bowling ball sent shivers down my spine. I had flinched again, and blew a raspberry to try to snap myself out of it. I was distracted by some letters that were arriving at my apartment recently. These letters were threatening me and they were scary, and I had no idea who they were coming from. Every noise I heard, my mind would immediately think it's the sender of these messages out to get me.
Tom looked at me and asked, "are you okay?"
"Yeah, why?" I asked, fibbing a little.
"You don't seem... here—" he chewed his food and spun his finger in circles near his head. "Mentally."
