I marched to our next destination: the library with the Latin inscription over the double doors. No way was I backing down! I was gonna stride right in there and declare my plans for The Vagina Monologues loud and proud. It didn’t matter if the Virgin Mary herself was in charge!

That was until I met Sister Rose.

The community room of the library – a place I’d never been before, since I do most of my studying by Googling stuff on our futon in front of trashy reality TV – was bright and sunny, with a big quilt spelling out LOVE on the wall. Perched at the desk like an adorable cuddly gargoyle, four foot nine if she was an inch, was Sister Rose.

When she saw us, a smile lit her kindly, wrinkled face, her blue eyes twinkled and she held up a bowl of butterscotch candies.

‘Hello, dears! Welcome! Would you like a candy?’

Mary Kate took one. I was too distressed. Because all of a sudden I couldn’t speak. What was wrong with me? I’d lost my nerve. Yes, I had sworn that I was a badass bitch who’d drop an F-bomb in front of the whole singing convent from The Sound of Music, but … but this nun! This little fun-sized nun! She was so cute! She even SMELLED cute, like chocolate-chip cookies and soap. She was like my grandma, without the passive-aggressive comments about my cartilage piercing!

Finally, I cleared my throat and managed to speak.

‘Hi!’ I began. ‘So we … we want … we were wondering …’

Seeing me falter, Mary Kate smiled. She popped the butterscotch candy in her mouth and crossed her arms, ready to watch me squirm.

‘Yes, sweetheart?’ Sister Rose tilted her head to the side. Even more adorable – like a puppy with one floppy ear.

‘We’re going … we were hoping … to put on a little show!’

My ears burned. I refused to look at Mary Kate.

‘Oh, how wonderful!’ Sister Rose cooed. ‘What is your show about?’

‘I …’ I balked. I faltered. I stalled. Finally, I turned to Mary Kate in desperation.

She looked up at the quilt on the wall. ‘Love!’ she said. ‘Wouldn’t you agree, Alex?’

I nodded.

Don’t hate me. This Sister Rose is kryptonite to badasses, I’m telling you. A hepatitis-ridden gang leader could swagger into that community room and in five minutes flat she’d have him sitting on the carpet singing ‘Itsy Bitsy Spider’.

‘How perfect!’ Sister Rose beamed. ‘Everything we’re doing at the library this semester has a theme: Jesus Loves the Little Children. Do you think your show would fit in with that?’

I considered. ‘Um … I think there’s a pretty gnarly birth scene …’

‘I don’t think so.’ My room-mate cut me off briskly. ‘Thank you anyway! Maybe next semester.’