“No, haven’t had a chance yet, remember?” I give him a look. “But I’ve read the directions on the back of the box about a thousand times. I’ll be okay when the moment arrives.”

“It’s not the same,” he says. “It’s like science class. You learn best through hands-on experiments. I used to practice a lot with some of my dad’s.”

“That’s sick,” I say.

“Why?” he says, laughing. “I had to make sure I knew how to put one on.”

“Look, Tank. Like I said, I’ll be fine when the moment arrives.”

“Zach, the time is now.” He throws his hands above his head. “Mandy Frack is waiting for us, and I don’t want you embarrassing yourself, and me, by taking an hour to put on a condom.”

There’s a brief silence as Tank turns and leads us down a long, tree-lined street with a wide grassy median. It’s a nice street with houses three times as large as our Blaine bungalows.

“This is her street,” he says. “You have a three-pack, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I think you should practice with one before we get there.”

“What?” I gaze around the stately neighborhood. “Where?”

“In there,” he says and points to a trio of large, tightly spaced evergreens towering over the median. “It’ll only take a few minutes. Nobody’s gonna see you. I’ll stand guard out here.”

“And what am I supposed to do to get excited, look at you?”

“I don’t know,” he says. “Think of someone hot. Who’s your dream girl?”

Your twin sister.

But I can’t say that, of course.

So instead I say, “I don’t know. Any Maxim girl, I guess.”

“Okay, so go in there and think about Maxim girls or whatever. Then make sure you can put a condom on.”

“This is crazy.” We cross the street and step onto the median. “I can’t believe I’m about to do this.”

“You’ll thank me later,” he says. “Trust me.” He gives me a gentle push in the back.

I wedge my way between the evergreens, being careful to avoid the prickly needles. Once I’m through, the area widens and there’s more space than I thought. A thick layer of fallen needles coats the ground, and they make crunching sounds every time I shift my feet. It’s dark in here and smells like Christmas wreaths.

“Can you see me?” I ask.

“No. You’re good.”

“Tank, I just had a strange thought.”

“You’re stalling.”

“No, really, just listen. Do you think Hugh Hefner uses condoms?”

“What?”

“Just answer the question.”

“I don’t know,” he says. “No, probably not. Hugh Hefner doesn’t use condoms.”

“Then why should we?” I remove a condom from the box and tear off the top of the orange wrapper.

“Because I don’t want a baby or an STD during my senior year, do you?”