Taking up her sweater and flashlight again, she went to the bench and again began to tug each of its slats. All were pegged securely in place, but one seemed a little loose. She tugged at it, fighting off dizziness, until it came free. Then, wasting no time, she used it to punch out the window in the door.
Cool air rushed in through the opening. Nancy nearly cried with relief. Pushing the slat through the opening, she used it as a lever. The locker outside didn’t move at first, but then she caught a metal lip and the side closest to her lifted six inches into the air. She was unable to overturn the monster, but it did slide backward a bit. A few more tries, and she had worked it back an entire foot!
She tried the door. It opened farther, but not enough. Working with the slat, she levered and pushed, slowly moving the lockers backward. Finally, she opened the door wide enough to slip out!
But would she make it? In spite of the cool air now washing over her clammy skin, Nancy was exhausted. Her head ached, and bright spots of color were dancing before her eyes. Reeling, she groped for her clothes and boots. Did she have them in her hands? She wasn’t sure. Never mind, she thought . . .
. . . just get out the door!
“Nancy, you shouldn’t be up! You should be in bed, resting,” Bess wailed.
Nancy didn’t answer. Instead, she pulled a gray Emerson sweatshirt over her head and ran her fingers through her hair. She had things to do this morning. Important things—like confronting a certain Emerson forward named Mike O’Shea!
“Come on, Nancy, won’t you sleep just a little bit longer?” Bess pleaded.
“Oh, leave her alone,” said George, who was lying on her bed. “You know what that look on her face means. She’s up, and that’s it!”
“Well, all right. But why kill yourself when you don’t have to?”
That was exactly the point, Nancy felt. She could have died in that sauna, and it had been totally unnecessary. The evidence in Mike’s room should have convinced her. But no, like a fool she had listened to Ned.
Well, no more! Nancy Drew was not going to act like a wimp for one minute longer! She now had more than enough evidence to make a case against Mike, and that was exactly what she was going to do! As soon as she found her boots.
An hour later, a solid breakfast in her stomach, Nancy marched up to the front door of Omega Chi Epsilon. She was about to pull it open when a girl burst out—a short, snub-nosed brunette. It was Mike’s girlfriend, she remembered.
“Excuse me,” the girl said. She started to walk past Nancy, but then stopped. “Wait, aren’t you Ned’s girlfriend?”
“That’s right. Nancy Drew.”
“Hi. We met at the party the other night, remember? My name’s Jan . . . Jan Teller.”
“Yes, I remember.” Nancy held out her hand. Jan didn’t look very happy, she noticed. Her eyes had circles under them, and she was glancing around nervously.
“Jan, I know this is a nosy question, but are you okay?” Nancy asked.
“Sure!” Jan said, trying to look cheerful. “I just—oh, who am I kidding? I’m not okay. I feel totally awful!”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Thanks, but no. It’s my boyfriend, Mike . . . you’ve met him, haven’t you?”
Nancy nodded. Had she ever!
“He’s been impossible lately,” Jan continued. “Moody. Irritable. Sometimes he even disappears and won’t tell me where he’s been!”
“Maybe he’s just tense because of the pressure on the Wildcats,” Nancy suggested carefully.
“Oh, no . . . it’s not that. Mike loves basketball! He’s usually very happy during the season. I don’t know what’s going on, but whatever it is it’s driving me crazy!”
You and me both, Nancy thought. Aloud, she said, “I’m sorry you’re having problems. I hope you two can work them out.”
“Yeah. Me, too,” Jan said miserably. “The way things are going, though, I don’t have much hope. Well, ’bye. I’ve got to run.”