“You’re lucky I love you and put up with your foul mouth.”

Donna considered Joan’s comment. “Yes, I suppose I am.”

They finished just as Lydia’s tent fell over.

“Come on,” Joan said.

Donna sighed. “Do I have to help her?”

“Yes.”

“Even though she lobbied for more time on the RMS so badly that they pulled me off to give it to her?”

“If you’re not gonna help her, I’ll do it myself.”

“Well, you aren’t gonna do shit,” Donna said, marching ahead of her. “You barely put up your own.”

When they approached Lydia, she said, “I’ve got it. Don’t touch it!”

Donna shot a look at Joan.

“Lydia, let us help you,” Joan said.

“Just give me some space to move—jeez.”

“Hey, how many chicks does it take to pitch a tent?” Marty said. Jimmy was with him, already laughing before Marty even delivered the punch line.

Joan closed her eyes, her chest rising. Donna shook her head.

“Doesn’t matter! Any of you can pitch my tent!” Marty said.

Lydia cracked up and gave Marty a low five.

“Just fuck off, Marty,” Donna said.

Jimmy muttered, “So touchy,” and then he and Marty walked on.

When they were out of earshot, Joan turned to Lydia. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Laugh at those stupid jokes. I hate it when you encourage them.”

“I think maybe you just need to lighten up.”

“You sound like them,” Donna said.

“Well, isn’t that sort of the point?” Lydia said, dropping the center of the tent onto the ground and giving up. “If you’d just go with the flow, they’d stop eventually. And see that we’re just like them.”

“I don’t want to be like them,” Joan said.

“We have to be like them,” Lydia said. “That’s why they are letting women into the program. Because we have finally convinced them we are just as good as them.”

“She has a point,” Donna said, sighing. “No one at NASA is thinking, ‘Let’s see how women do it.’ They’re thinking, ‘Maybe we should give them a chance to prove they are just like us.’ ”

“I mean, it’s 1981, Joan,” Lydia said. “It’s time to stop getting upset at stupid jokes and start getting stuff done.”

“I would say the exact opposite to you,” Joan countered, her breathing shallow. “It’s 1981, and I’m done pretending sexist jokes are funny just so men will give me a chance at something I’m probably better at than they are.”

Lydia shook her head. “You just don’t get it. It infuriates me sometimes. Before Group 8, there wasn’t a single woman in this program. All men, and every man who’s been assigned a mission has been white.”

“I obviously know that.”