“C’mon . . . we can’t give up yet!” he roared. “Hey . . . how about you two girls? Will you sign our petition?” He thrust a clipboard at Nancy and George.
Nancy glanced at the letter it held. There were only half a dozen signatures on it. “Uh . . . I don’t know. What does it say?”
“It demands that the trustees assign less money to the Physical Education department in next year’s budget.”
George bristled. “Why should they do that? Physical education is important!”
“Sure, but not more important than academics. Yet each year the P.E. department gets more money than any other. It’s not fair.”
“Yes it is,” George countered. “Sports programs are expensive.”
The boy’s face darkened. “Oh, I get it—you’re a jock. You care more about the locker room than about the classroom.”
“And you’d rather grind than unwind!” George shot back. “Tell me something—what makes you think you know what’s best for this school?”
“Well, for one thing I’m president of the student council. Tom Stafford’s the name, in case you didn’t know.”
“I didn’t. But I still say sports are important.”
“Typical,” Tom said, turning away in disgust. “You jocks are all alike—all brawn, no brains.”
Now Nancy was angry, too. She believed strongly in free speech, but the student leader’s last remark was too much.
“That’s not fair. I know plenty of athletes who are also excellent students,” she said.
Tom pivoted. “Sure. Name one!”
“My boyfriend, Ned Nickerson.”
The change that came over Tom at the mention of Ned’s name was striking. Suddenly his eyes narrowed. His voice grew cold. “You go out with the Big Nick, huh? Well, congratulations. I hope you’re enjoying your share of the school’s money.”
“My what?” Nancy asked, astonished.
“You know what I’m talking about,” Tom hinted darkly. “Tell me, do you and Ned toast the trustees when you’re out on the town?”
“Just what are you implying?” she demanded. “What do our dates have to do with trustees or school money or anything?”
George tugged on her arm. “Come on, Nancy, this guy’s a jerk. Let’s go.”
“Not until he explains himself! He’s insulting Ned! And I’m not going to let him get away with it!”
“Nancy, come on! The line’s beginning to move.”
Reluctantly, Nancy abandoned her argument with Tom Stafford and rejoined the line. In no time they were inside, climbing the bleachers to their seats. She explained what had happened to Bess, who agreed that Tom was out of his mind.
“How someone like that could be elected president of the student council is beyond me,” she remarked.
“Me, too.”
Nancy seethed quietly. Once the game began, however, she gradually forgot the encounter. The action was fast and exciting, and it was impossible not to be swept up by it.
St. George’s had a good team, but they were no match for Emerson’s razzle-dazzle offense and their tough, relentless defense. Several times Ned took possession on the rebound and led his team in fast break drives down the court. The score climbed, and by the end of the first half Emerson was ahead by an eighteen-point margin.
“Looks like the game’s in the bag,” Nancy said to George during half time.
“Sure looks that way.” George grinned back.
But a few minutes later Nancy realized she had spoken too soon. Shortly after the jump ball that began the second half, the action came to a halt as a blood-curdling scream rang out!
Chapter Three
An eerie silence descended in the gym. It didn’t last, however. A second later a murmur rose from the bleachers. On the court, a referee blew his whistle for a time-out. Nancy noticed security guards hurrying toward the Emerson bench, and without a moment’s hesitation she joined them.
The scream had come from the pretty, freckle-faced student who masqueraded as the team mascot, the Emerson Wildcat, Nancy discovered. The girl was standing behind the bench in tears. She wore the Wildcat costume, minus the head, but it hung from her limbs in tatters.
It had been slashed to ribbons!
“I don’t understand. . . . I only had it off for a few minutes!” the girl sobbed. “I was taking a break, and . . . and when I put it back on . . .” Her sobs grew louder.