He brought his hand solemnly to his chest. I rolled my eyes. ‘What are you doing here anyway?’ I asked. ‘Did Father Hughes make all the hockey players join Save Your Heart to head off a green-plaid crabs epidemic?’

‘I was talking to Katie,’ Pat said. ‘I’ve got practice, so I can’t come to the meeting today, but I’m gonna be helping with stage-manager stuff for the festival. So you and I will be seeing a lot of each other, San Francisco.’

Ugh! He already had a nickname for me. Annoying. And annoying, that little twinge I felt behind my belly button when he smiled at me …

Before he sauntered away, he leaned in and whispered in my ear, ‘By the way, you’re just in time for prayer circle.’

An explosion of pink assaulted me as soon as I stepped into the room. A pink SAVE YOUR HEART banner, the ever-present pink balloons (does Katie Casey fart helium or something?) and a platter of pink cookies on the desk. The health classroom was where we had our super-progressive and illuminating abstinence-only sex education unit freshman year, so the bookshelves were filled with The Abstinence Workbook and My Body, My Bible, and there was a big poster of two ugly 1980s teenagers in acid-washed mom jeans that said: WE’RE WAITING … IS THAT COOL WITH YOU?

And …

‘Friggin’ hell,’ I whispered under my breath.

There was an actual prayer circle going on. Katie Casey and her little lemmings were sitting cross-legged on the floor in a circle, holding hands, along with their faculty advisor, Ms Hyde, the nervous young teacher who had taught us sex ed with those clueless Catholic workbooks.

‘Alex!’ Katie called. ‘Come join us!’

And I did. I walked in and sat down, right between Katie Casey and Ms Hyde, who looked like a human pink cupcake, plump and flushed. I took their hands. I bowed my head. I joined the prayer circle. And the whole time I was reminding myself of one very, very important fact:

I was using Katie Casey.

While, to the casual observer, it might seem like I was compromising my values by allowing The Vagina Monologues to be airbrushed with pink glitter as part of the Save Your Heart Festival, that wasn’t true. Really, I was being sneaky. I was using Katie Casey’s squeaky-clean, G-rated, Heidi the Mountain Girl facade to smuggle my radical feminist message into St Mary’s. She was my Trojan horse. Or non-Trojan horse – you know, because of the whole celibacy thing.

‘So, Katie!’ I said when the circle had broken up and the virginity minions were helping Ms Hyde put the desks back. ‘We’re all good to go, right? Green light? The Vagina Monologues is full steam ahead?’

‘Well …’ Katie was smiling as always. ‘I went to see Father Hughes this afternoon …’

I wagged a playful finger at her. ‘I bet he was happy to see you!’