"It's no deprivation. Besides, I'll be with Nedra."
"Um," Zen said. The jealousy he felt almost made him forget how tired he was.
The room was as bare as the cell of a monk. The bed was a double decker with the top deck covered with books. It was hand-made, of rough pine posts, and the springs were cords. There was no mattress. And no pillow. A reading lamp was at the head.
"Hope you're comfortable here," the tall youth said. "Is there anything I can get for you?"
"Nothing. But you might show me the little boy's room."
"Are you still on that level?" The tall youth seemed genuinely surprised.
"Yes," Zen said. Then, as the implications back of the question caught him, "Aren't you on the same level? I mean, don't you go?"
"Well, yes," John answered. Embarrassment reddened his face. "But you're older than I am, and I thought perhaps you—" His voice trailed off into silence as his embarrassment grew.
"You thought what?" Zen continued.
"Well, that—" The youth became flustered, then seemed to become irritated with himself for being flustered, then for being irritated. Zen watched the emotional reaction build higher and higher. He could see no possible importance in the emotional response of the tall kid except that the kid had intimated that he might be spending the night with Nedra. Would people who didn't use toilets spend nights together? If they did, what would they do? Talk about the beauties of flowers and read poetry to each other? Zen sniffed silently to himself, to show his contempt for such antics.