‘That is true,’ Father Hughes acknowledged, folding his hands on his desk. ‘You do have a right to free speech in the public domain. But St Mary’s is a private institution. Not only a private institution, but a private Catholic institution. And we have a moral mission to promote Catholic values. The school would not devote time, energy and its name to a project that promotes different values – for example, sexual activity outside the confines of Holy Matrimony.’

‘That’s not what the play’s about!’ I burst out. ‘The play is about being comfortable with your body and yourself and your own identity, and not feeling weird and icky and shameful just to be a friggin’ human being every day! But you would have no idea because you’ve probably never heard of the play before I walked in here! You’re just home cracking open, like, the Book of Revelations again – “Ooh, can’t wait for those four horsemen to come. They sound really neat!”’

‘I am aware of the play,’ he said tersely, his jaw tight. ‘And I believe it is an adult work of art inappropriate for the students of this institution. However …’

I looked at him suspiciously.

‘While we do not have an unlimited right of free speech on this campus, we do have a democratic process. You may put this to a petition, Ms Heck.’

‘Petition?’ That was a word almost as surprising on this campus as vagina.

He nodded. ‘Students have the right to petition the administration. If you collect five hundred verified student and faculty signatures, you earn the right to bring your suggestion to committee, and we will seriously reconsider The Vagina Monologues.’

‘Seriously?’

‘Seriously,’ Father Hughes confirmed. ‘You’ll find the right to petition on page eighty-one, section A of the student handbook.’

Dammit. The student handbook again. I would really have to unfold some of those ninja stars. Or steal Mary Kate’s.

But a petition – I could do a petition! I’m definitely a petition girl. I’ve got righteous political fervor. I went to, like, twenty different injustice marches back in San Francisco, with killer signs, too. I can rock the hell out of a petition.

‘Well, good!’ I stood up. ‘Then I look forward to seeing you back here. Me and my five hundred signatures.’

Father Hughes stood up, too. ‘I look forward to it, Ms Heck.’

I extended my hand across the desk and gave him my best ballbuster, steel-toed-motorcycle-boot handshake of determination. I knew he didn’t think I could do it – but, even after dozens of disciplinary meetings in this office, I was pretty sure Father Hughes had no idea what he was dealing with when it came to me.

September

7