“Someone who looks like me?” I ask, flicking my long red hair over my shoulder.

Doc flinches, as if my hair is a curse word shouted in church. “Yes.”

He’s not saying anything new. I am the only person on this ship who wasn’t born here. And while the residents of Godspeed had the individuality bred out of them so they’re all monoethnic, I’ve got super-pale skin, bright green eyes, and red hair to mark how different I am. The former ship’s leader, Eldest, did me no favors, either, telling the residents that I was a genetic experiment gone wrong. At best, most people here think I’m a freak.

At worst, they blame me for the way things have been falling apart.

Three weeks ago, I went for my regular morning run. I stopped near the chicken farm to look at the baby chicks. The farmer came outside with the feed—he’s a huge man, his arms as thick as my legs. He set the bucket of feed on the ground and just . . . just stared at me. Then he walked to the gate and picked up a shovel. He hefted it up, testing the weight of it and running one finger along the sharp and shiny blade. I started running then, looking over my shoulder. He watched me, shovel in hand, until I was out of sight.

I haven’t been running since.

“I’m not stupid,” I tell Doc, standing up. “I know that things aren’t exactly peachy around here.”

I sling open the door to my wardrobe and pull out a long piece of cloth that’s such a dark shade of maroon it’s almost brown. The material is thin and a little stretchy. Starting behind my left ear, I drape the cloth over my forehead, then under my mass of red hair, then back around, wrapping up my hair so it’s completely hidden behind the dark cloth. When I get to the end, I twist the wrapped hair into a bun and tie the ends of the cloth into a knot. Then I grab the jacket from the desk chair and sling it over my shoulders, pulling the hood up over my head. The last thing I do is tuck my cross necklace under my shirt so no one can see it.

“It’s not perfect,” I say as Doc inspects my apparel. “But if I keep my head down and my hands in the jacket pockets, it’s hard for anyone to notice how different I am unless they get up close.” And I don’t really plan on getting up close to anyone.

Doc nods. “I’m glad you’ve thought of this sort of thing,” he says. “I’m . . . well, I’m impressed.”

I roll my eyes.

“But I don’t think it’s enough,” he adds.

I push the hood out of my face and stare at Doc, making a point to meet his eyes. “I. Will. Not. Stay locked up in this room forever. I know you don’t think it’s safe, but I won’t be even more of a prisoner than I already am. You can’t keep me here.”