Okay, I didn’t know exactly what I was talking about, seeing as the day they gave me the St Mary’s rulebook, I tore the pages out and made 200 origami ninja stars. But I could tell there was a double standard here.

Father Hughes spoke in a calm, measured voice, still holding the stamp above the report. ‘Mr Nowakowski did not have a female student in his room at the time of the incident.’

‘Because I was climbing OUT of his room!’

‘He claims to have no knowledge of you being at St Ambrose Hall that evening. According to Mr Nowakowski, he was studying alone.’

Colin Nowakowski, you little shit-faced liar! I couldn’t believe I let his growth spurt trick me. He was still a turd, just now he was a turd with a hipster haircut. And Father Hughes was a turd in a priest collar.

‘You know what this is?’ I jumped out of my seat. ‘This is total friggin’ sexist treatment. You Catholics! You’re still holding a grudge against Eve and that apple! I mean, what was she supposed to do? Girlfriend was in a nudist garden on a blind date with a dude missing a rib – it wasn’t like there were FOOD TRUCKS around!’

Grave, serious and self-controlled as ever, Father Hughes said, ‘We are not discussing the Book of Genesis right now, Ms Heck. We are discussing your continual and deliberate disciplinary infractions.’

And, with that, he lowered the mighty mahogany stamp. It pounded the incident report with gravitas. I was officially in trouble again.

Father Hughes searched through the folders on his desk and found my file. I had so many of those bright yellow sheets, I could have wallpapered Big Bird’s S&M chamber with them. My very first related to a practical joke gone awry involving the dorm chapel, a can of whipped cream and a prefect’s life-sized cut-out of Harry Styles. From there, I had continued to rack up Dress Code Violations, Personal Appearance Violations, Student Safety Violations – you name it.

‘Ms Heck,’ Father Hughes said, ‘we are starting a new academic year – your junior year, an exceptionally important one for your future here at St Mary’s and beyond. It is clear from your conduct that my efforts to integrate you as a respectful and productive member of this community have failed. Therefore I felt I had no choice but to call in more … impactful … reinforcements.’

Exorcism! That was my first thought. Some wild-eyed priest with a tangled beard and six-inch fingernails had been dragged from the wilds of Patagonia to come chain me to the golden Mary statue and chant in tongues until the devil of disobedience was chased screeching from my body.

I was actually pretty excited.