‘Hello, everyone,’ Father Hughes greeted us. ‘I have some news to share with you. Sister Georgina will no longer be serving as faculty advisor to the St Mary’s Feminist Club.’

‘Wait, WHAT?’ I spluttered in astonishment. Then I burst out accusingly, ‘You killed her, didn’t you? You killed her so you could take her spot here and spy on us!’

‘Alex!’ Mary Kate gasped again. She was sitting down now, but perched tensely on the edge of her seat, trembling.

Father Hughes took it calmly, though. ‘No, Ms Heck. Happily for all of us, Sister Georgina is in good spiritual and physical health. She is, however, in her later years and in need of a rest – as perhaps you’ve noticed? So she has decided to take her retirement down at a Catholic retreat center in Florida.’

‘Retirement?’ I balked. ‘What does a nun have to retire from? Don’t you retire the day you check yourself into the convent and sign away your lifelong right to lipgloss and –’

This time I cut myself off before I put my foot in it too badly. The only reaction from Father Hughes was to raise a single grey, stern eyebrow.

‘We will search for a new faculty advisor who is an appropriate fit for the Feminist Club. In the meantime, in order that your meetings may continue without interruption, I will be serving as a substitute. But please –’ he looked around pleasantly and smiled at the sweaty, twitching group – ‘do not let me distract you. Just continue as planned. Pretend I’m not here.’

Pretend you’re not here? Sure, no sweat. This was just like back when I was in tween therapy during my parents’ divorce and the perky therapist with the home-made earrings used to have me make macaroni picture frames while asking me oh-so-casual questions and secretly analyzing my use of the glue stick for signs of psychopathy.

But I had brazenly continued with my satanic crafting back then, and I just as brazenly plowed onward now. Was it going to be difficult to execute a plan to shock and offend Father Hughes when he was in the room where we were planning it? Yes. But was I going to be daunted, surrender, or – worst of all – decide to act appropriately and behave myself in front of a priest? Oh hell, no!

‘We,’ I declared, ‘are going to put on a non-school-sanctioned production of The Vagina Monologues.’

Silence. Tense, buzzing, uncomfortable silence.

‘Um,’ Mary Kate ventured. ‘Don’t you think that might be a bit … difficult? Like, for example, the first step, which would be finding a place to put on the play. As I understand it –’ she kept glancing down the table towards Father Hughes, but not making actual eye contact – ‘you can only book a campus venue for an official school event … approved by the principal.’