I glance at Arn for help he can’t provide. I focus back on the Warden. “Why?”

The Warden gives me a reassuring smile, yet he looks more like a jackal than a lap dog. “I like to see the face of the man before I do business.” He hisses the word bizznezz like a snake.

Somewhere in the distance a fly buzzes against a window. Down the street someone is shouting. The heat of the room intensifies.

I swallow hard. “What if I say no?”

The Warden snaps his fingers, a sound like stepping on a dry twig, and Darrel jumps up with the shotgun.

The Warden widens his smile. His polished white teeth remind me of fangs. “If you don’t uncover, I’ll know you’re an outlaw. We don’t tolerate outlaws.” Outlawzz.

I picture the lizard I killed the day before. How did it feel when my snare tightened around his throat? Slowly, I reach up and slip my finger between the bandanna and my skin. Then I yank down, exposing my face.

The Warden recoils. “A bender.”

He doesn’t think I’m a girl. Relief floods me, then stops cold. Some think benders are filthy half-people. They’re cursed at, kicked out of town, killed for being neither male nor female, but some mutated combination of both.

The Warden snaps a hand at Darrel. “Arrest him.”

“No!” Arn tugs at his cell bars.

Darrel takes a heavy step towards me.

“Don’t,” I say, shuffling backwards. I back up till I hit the far wall. My eyes search for an exit, but the only way out is blocked by Darrel and the Warden. I look to Arn.

“He ain’t done nothing wrong,” Arn says, a mournful look falling over his bruised face.

The Warden reaches for the gun holstered at his hip. White flecks of spit sprinkle the corners of his mouth. “He’s what’s wrong.” He points a thin finger at me. “He’s an abomination. A poison in this nice community.” The sound of his revolver sliding out of the holster echoes in the heavy stillness of the room.

My eyes snap from Arn to Darrel to the Warden. This can’t happen. I might be able to dodge Darrel who’s bulky and slow. Then I’ll have to get through the Warden and his polished revolver. Even if I manage that, I’ll have to get past security at the gate. And I’ll still be without Arn.

“Don’t—” is all I manage to say as Darrel grabs for my wrist. This time I won’t be able to stop the tears.

A new voice cuts in from the doorway. “What’s going on, fellas?”

Everyone turns. The man I saw in the general store stands in the doorway. His hands rest on his hips, inches away from the two big, shiny revolvers. He’s tall and well built, not sickly and thin like ninety percent of the people outside. With his cowboy hat thumbed back, I can see his face. Even in my distress, my eyes linger on his smooth skin, strong jaw and sky blue eyes.