Lilacs

Understand that, at eleven years old, Robert was by far the most mature friend I had, and that by mature, I’m not necessarily talking about the outward signs of puberty—although he did possess a remarkable quantity of pubic hair—but that he was confident, too, and dressed well, and cared about things I’d barely begun thinking about.
     And so, although we were only going to pretend to have dated those girls I was telling you about, when he suggested we take them those lilacs we’d picked and let them in on the scheme, it seemed like a good idea.