Thats very trusting. Iris watches Anke search our backpacks.Were saving peoples lives. We thought we could be,Anke says. Im more fixated on her arm in my backpack than on what shes saying, though. That bag is nearly empty, but its mine. Shes messing it up. Her hands might not even be clean.When she does stop, I immediately wish she hadnt. Denise, she says, I need to search your bed next.My gaze flicks to my pillow. I. I. Could I.She doesnt like people touching her bed. Iris stands, guarding me.Youre touching it, Captain Van Zands brother says.Iris shoots him a withering look. I sat at the foot, which is the only place thats OK for even me to touch, and Im her sister.Ankes sigh sounds closer to a hiss. Look, we have more rooms to search.I squirm. No. Not squirm. Im rocking. Back and forth. Wait, I say.You cant Iris goes on.Just cause shes too precious to the man argues.Wait, I repeat, softer this time, so soft that Im not even sure Iris hears it. Can I, can I just, wait. I can lift the sheets and mattress myself. You can look. Right? Is that good? Right? Is that good? If I lift them? I force my jaw shut.No one says anything for several moments. I cant tell if Anke is thinking of a counterargument or if she really is trying to make this work. Her lips tighten. OK. If you listen to my instructions exactly.Youre indulging her? Captain Van Zands brother says. Shes just being difficult. Have you ever seen an autistic kid? Trust me, theyre not the kind to take water scooters into the city like she did.Denise, just get it done, Anke snaps.I dont stand until theyre far enough away from the bed, as if they might jump at me and touch the bed themselves regardless. I blink away tears. Its dumb, I know thatIm treating Ankes hands like some kind of nuclear hazardbut this is my space, mine, and too little is left thats mine as is. I cant even face Iris. With the way she tried to help, it feels as though Im betraying her by offering this solution myself.I keep my head low and follow Ankes orders one-handed. Take off both the satin and regular pillowcases, show her the pillow, shake it (although I tell her she can feel the pillow herself: thats OK, since the pillowcases will cover it again anyway)lift the sheets, shake them, lift the mattress long enough for her to shine her light underneath, let her feel the mattress (which is OK, too, since shes just touching it from the bottom) . . .They tell us to stay in our room for another hour.I wash my hands, straighten the sheets, wash my hands again, and wrap the pillow in its cases.That was a good solution, Iris says.Sorry, I mutter.For what?Being difficult. Not letting her help me. I keep my eyes on the sheets as I make the bed and let out a small laugh.