When I came back out, Jeremiah and Conrad were on the floor, on opposite sides of the bed. They each had a pillow and a blanket. “You guys should take the bed,” I said, even though I only partly meant it. “There’s two of you. I’ll sleep on the floor.”
Conrad was busy ignoring me, but Jeremiah said, “Nah, you take it. You’re the girl.”
Under ordinary circumstances, I would have argued with him just for the principle of it—what did my being a girl have to do with whether or not I slept on the floor? I was a girl, not an invalid. But I didn’t argue. I was too tired. And I did want the bed.