That’s why I didn’t push her to be more pumped about the Monologues. I mean, her lack of enthusiasm was partially my fault anyway, for not creating that Vagina Advent Calendar. Instead, I went over to the futon and tried to cheer her up.

‘Hey, you know what I was thinking?’ I said. ‘This happens in every single Jane Austen book, doesn’t it? Halfway through the story the main chick comes down with a dreaded case of Corset Lung, and is down for the count in bed. And THAT’S when the Colin Firth-type whose ass looks great in riding pants realizes he’s loved her all along! And then they live happily ever after! Well, for like ten months, until she dies in childbirth … But, what I’m saying is, maybe this is your moment for romance!’

But even the thought of a British dude in riding pants couldn’t cheer her up. Things were dire.

‘No,’ she rasped through her phlegmy vocal cords. ‘I’m done looking for love. I’m done trying. It’s impossible. I’m unlovable.’

‘Aw, c’mon! You’re lovable! You’re so lovable! You’re the most lovable person in this room – besides Sir Shackleton obviously.’

‘I’m repulsive. I’m gonna die alone.’

‘Mary Kate, you’re sixteen. You’re not gonna die anytime soon unless you get involved in a nude Snapchat scandal with a senator.’

A frantic knock on our door interrupted me and I shuffled over in my panda slippers to answer it.

‘Bedchecks from Sister Hellda,’ I said over my shoulder to Mary Kate.

But no. It was a girl from the fourth floor, flushed with excitement, panting heavily and waving a green flyer. As soon as I opened the door, she burst out: ‘The TOOTHLESS BEAST is coming!’

The Toothless Beast. Dominic LeClair. I had almost forgotten about him during the Monologues, but Dominic LeClair was still a thing. The latest I’d heard, he’d taken a leave of absence from St Luke’s, which meant he could potentially enroll in another school and potentially start classes this semester, just in time to potentially secure our hockey team a spot in the play-offs and carry us through to the championship. But that had all been hypothetical, and we hadn’t heard anything else … until now.

‘He’s coming to visit,’ Fourth-Floor gushed. ‘If he likes it, he’ll officially announce he’s coming to St Mary’s. So the guys are throwing a recruit party, and they need lots and lots of girls.’

‘Ugh,’ I groaned. ‘That is so gross, honestly. Those recruit parties are the WORST.’

Fourth-Floor handed me a flyer. ‘Will you come?’

I slammed the door in her face.

‘Can you believe her?’ I asked Mary Kate, balling up the flyer and throwing it on the floor. ‘Does she really see me spending an entire night of my life trying to make conversation with a bunch of Gatorade-soaked jockstraps?’