“Happens every year. I think the homecoming committee puts something in their food to make them act that way,” Jerry cracked.
“How are the winners chosen?” Nancy asked Ned.
“They’re nominated by petition. If you can get two hundred signatures, you’re a finalist. The final selection is made by ballot. Each student can cast a vote.”
The crowd grew quiet as a trumpet began to play. Looking toward Ivy Hall, Nancy saw that the trumpeter, dressed as a royal page, was standing in the center of the steps. When he finished the piece, he announced: “Hear ye! Hear ye! Make way for Emerson College’s new king and queen!”
Nancy clapped as a guy on the homecoming committee took the microphone and introduced all the finalists. Tamara Carlson was the only person Nancy recognized.
“And the winners are—” The student read off two names that Nancy didn’t recognize, but she applauded enthusiastically, spurred on by the spirit of the crowd.
On the steps, the king and queen joined hands and took a bow. Then the finalists gathered around to congratulate the winners.
“That concludes the royal ceremony,” said the announcer. “See you tomorrow at the float parade!”
“Isn’t it romantic?” Bess said as the crowd began to disperse. “Queen for the year—”
“Yeah,” Jerry agreed, “but it has its drawbacks. The king has to wear funny purple tights for the parade.”
Nancy joined in the laughter. Peering over Bess’s shoulder, she could see the finalists descend the steps, and she watched as Tamara Carlson cut through the crowd, joining a guy and girl who stood only a few feet from Nancy and her friends. The attractive guy wore a red-and-white Russell U jacket. When the other girl turned, Nancy saw Tamara’s sister, Susannah.
Tamara’s pretty, dark-skinned face was scrunched up with disappointment, Nancy saw. She seemed to be on the verge of tears. Susannah reached out and took her sister by the arm.
“Don’t feel bad, Tamara,” she said sympathetically. “The other students are crazy not to have voted for you. I told you this school is lousy.”
The cute guy nodded grimly. “Emerson stinks!” he said in disgust. “And they’re going to lose the homecoming game on Sunday. I guarantee it!”
Chapter Seven
Nancy’s mouth dropped open. “Who’s that guy in the Russell jacket?” she asked Ned.
“That’s Zip Williams, Russell’s starting quarterback,” Ned said, following Nancy’s gaze. “I’ve never met him personally, but everyone on campus knows who he is. Zip is practically a legend in his own time. They don’t call him Zip for nothing. He’s all over the field when he plays, and he’s tough to stop.”
“He also has a motive for hurting Randy,” Nancy murmured. “I was hoping to find out a few things from him, like whether he was at last night’s rally. He’s just saved me a trip to Russell.” Giving Ned’s arm a quick squeeze, she said, “I’m going over to introduce myself.”
Ned nodded, checking his watch. “Okay, but I’ve got to run. My English class is on the other side of campus.”
“And I’ve got practice,” Jerry said apologetically. He turned to Bess. “See you there? I’ll look for you in the bleachers.”
“Sure,” Bess agreed, blushing. “I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”
As the guys left, Nancy and Bess went over to Susannah, Tamara, and Zip. “Hi, Susannah,” Nancy said. “Did you get settled in?”
“Yes, thanks to you and your friends,” Susannah replied with a smile. Turning to her sister, she said, “These are the people I was telling you about. Nancy and Bess, isn’t it? This is my sister, Tamara, and her boyfriend, Zip Williams.”
“Sorry you didn’t win,” Bess told Tamara, “but it must have been exciting to be a finalist.”
Tamara shrugged. “It was okay.”
“I’ve been hearing about you ever since I arrived on campus,” Nancy told Zip. “People are pretty psyched up about Sunday’s game.”
A cocky grin spread across Zip’s face as he said, “I hate to disappoint all the Wildcats fans, but Emerson doesn’t have a chance of winning on Sunday.”
“That’s a little premature, isn’t it?” Nancy asked, raising her eyebrows. “After all, anything can happen.”
“That’s true.” Zip shoved his hands into the pockets of his Russell jacket. “Let me rephrase that. Randy Simpson doesn’t stand a chance on Sunday. He’s a rookie. Our linebackers will chew him up and spit him out.”