‘But my panic kicks in. I clamp onto his sweaty hand tighter. We’re so close! I’m saying, “The stairs are right there!” but he’s mumbling, “I need some air,” and pulling away towards this bush. But I can’t let go. I won’t let go. I’ve waited sixteen years to hold a boy’s hand and I’ve finally got one, a cute, preppy one who’s getting an A in advanced theology, and I’m going to hold onto him, dammit!’

Her knuckles were white now as she gripped the side of the marble fountain.

‘John was pulling away, but I refused to let go. Do you remember during the European history final when I really, really, really had to pee, but I had one last essay to write and I managed to scribble the whole thing like a crazy person, with an introduction and a thoughtful conclusion and everything, before I ran out of the room?’

I did remember. ‘You got a perfect score.’

‘I kept telling myself the same thing I said during that test: Mind over matter, Mary Kate, mind over matter, and with this great big adrenaline rush I yanked this six-foot-two kid away from the bush he was pulling towards and back to me.’

For a moment, there was a look of grim satisfaction on her mascara-streaked face, her little jaw firmly set, her hair slicked back like a battle helmet. Then, slowly, she turned to look at me at last.

‘And that’s when he puked all over me.’

I pulled my hand back from her leg. ‘Ew, seriously?’

Then I looked back at the fountain. ‘Oh! So that explains the drowning.’

‘That explains the drowning,’ Mary Kate said. ‘I mean, I couldn’t walk into our dorm and face Sister Hellda looking like the Creature from the Barf Lagoon.’

We got up and walked slowly across the quad, Mary Kate’s eyes downcast, as if in mourning for the more innocent time before she knew what it was like to be puked on. We should have paid more attention when Pat told us that just one drink makes Theology John puke or pass out.

‘Don’t worry,’ I told her. ‘We’ll go straight down to the laundry room and, if anyone else has stuff in the machine, I’ll throw it right on the floor for you. Even the Rowers! We’ll get your clothes totally clean and brand-new. All we need is a bottle of Febreze.’

A gust of wind across the quad blew another whiff of my room-mate’s stink towards me and I amended my comment, ‘Or an exorcism.’

‘You know,’ Mary Kate said sadly, ‘I really wish I’d taken his coat.’

16

In McLaughlin Hall, my Feminist Club girls Sarah and Sophia sat on the edge of the stage in their uniforms, their legs chastely crossed at the ankles, their faces bathed in a beatific yellow glow.