The Mating Run by Leeka

I watch Ettie exit the ‘Clinic‘ room, clutching brochures and pamphlets, and my grin grows wider.

“Not one word, Alina. I mean it.”

I wrap my arms around her, blocking out everything else around us, including her.

With Ettie by my side, we exit City Hall, and the flashes of the cameras from the photographers and reporters blind me momentarily. Reporters and photographers are swarming around us, their questions about our registration process causing Ettie to cover her face in frustration.

Ettie’s grip on my arm is tight as she pulls me away from the noisy press.

“Come on, it’s too damn early for this,” A photographer’s camera flashes in Ettie’s eyes as he gets too close, causing her to snarl in frustration. “Don’t take any more pictures, seriously!”

The press is hot on our heels, but we manage to lose them by ducking through small alleyways and climbing up and down gates and fences.

I already know that Ettie will be the center of attention and that many people will want to take her picture.

If there is anyone who could gather a large group of sponsors during the Mating Run, it would be her.

With a mane of golden hair and sparkling green eyes, she is the embodiment of timeless beauty. Those who manage to stay in the spotlight, even after the event, who find themselves with a leading role in an upcoming sitcom or featured in the pamphlet for the next Mating Run.

I wonder what the doctor told her, if it was more encouraging than what she told me.

Just as the thought enters my head, I notice Ettie’s house coming into view. The place where she lives is quaint and only has two floors. Ettie lives by herself and looks after five plants, exactly how she wants it.

“Goddess, I thought we’d never get away from those assholes.”

Wiping the sweat off her forehead, Ettie lets out a whine in frustration.

Our morning jog pales in comparison to the distance we covered while fleeing from the persistent photographers. Ettie surprises me by remaining standing, despite my expectation that she would collapse to the floor in exhaustion.

I observe her movements as she walks towards the watercan, picks it up, and waters each of her five hibiscus plants.

Just as I was about to tease her, the sound of both of our phones ringing interrupted me.

I furrow my brows and glance down at my phone to see an unfamiliar number attempting to reach me. I turn to look at Ettie, who mirrors my own expression of confusion. With a shrug, she answers the call and walks away from me. As I answer the call, my eyes fixate on the picture frames that decorate her wall.

“Alina Mockett?”

“Yes?”

“Your biodata and contact information have been shared with us by City Hall for the purpose of the upcoming Mating Run. I’m Miles and I’ll be taking care of the styling and PR for you. Got a minute to talk?”

My spine straightens involuntarily as soon as I hear what Miles said.

People have mentioned the speed at which PR works to get a contender’s name out there, and the intense effort put into pre-Mating Run events.

Prior to the event, the contenders’ names would be promoted through parties, interviews, and radio appearances to attract potential sponsors. Experiencing it firsthand is an entirely different matter than hearing about it, and the mixture of emotions is both overwhelming and exhilarating.

“Uh, yes?”

“Great! Wanted to give you the heads up – City Hall’s partying tonight. Registration closes soon, and they’re planning a big red carpet extravaganza to showcase all the contenders for this year’s Mating Run. You’ll have a chance to meet the Alpha and the High Council Elders. Got any flashy, maybe red dress? So, you’re kind of plain according to your file. Let’s work on making you stand out.”

The comment stings just as much now as it did when the doctor first uttered those words.

I steel myself and push through, reminding myself that this is a small hurdle.

It’s up to them to make me beautiful, not me.

don’t have a dress that’s gonna be eye-catching enough. I’ll check with my friend who’s in the running and see if she’s got one I can borrow. You know who I’m talking about, don’t you? Her name’s

quickly clears his throat before continuing to speak. I could almost feel the weight of his disappointment in the air, even

with green eyes? I don’t think so. Whatever you do, don’t wear her dress or show up together at the event. You’re free to mingle with her at the party, but once you’re there

my PR guy, thinks I’m uglier than my friend. It goes without saying

“Right.”

the hurt in my voice, Miles doesn’t seem to

maybe he does notice, he just doesn’t

unhappy with the way it’s going, judging by the way she’s grumbling. After my hour-long call, Ettie and I sit on

I can’t believe you convinced me to register,

you love me, don’t let me hide out

a dress that barely covers my knees. One without

a flowy pastel dress. They think my face isn’t enough, so they’re banking on

forehead creases, her eyebrows

You’re so beautiful. It’s all about ratings and putting

but I

trust that his opinion is impartial. I take comfort in knowing that when the Mating Run starts on the trail, Ettie

clock on the wall, I can’t help but grimace

PR team outside City Hall. They’re gonna try dresses on me and do my makeup, so I gotta get there pronto. Once you’re at

we’re not

the attention out of my head, even as I try

And so, I lie.

I’m tinier than the rest. There’s a good chance they don’t have many dresses

low groan and rubs her

is killing me. I just left City Hall and now I have to go back. Can’t believe it! I don’t give a damn

go through what

the couch with a snort, stifling a yawn, as she makes her

began, so it’s not gonna stop anytime soon. That’s when the pheromones start doing their thing, Alina. You’re good to go as long as you

“Well, yeah, but-”

be in the shower. Can you lock up when you

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the cold air biting at

my fingers, I smooth down my hair, put on a face mask, slide on some sunglasses, and zip up my hoodie. Miles instructed me to avoid being seen, as the initial photo to be released to the press

swarming around the closed off white tents. When I arrive, I am greeted by a small but enthusiastic crowd, some of whom are already waving and smiling

that every step of the bonding process, from registration to the

bright flashes of the cameras make me feel like I’m in a dream, and I have to blink several times to regain my vision. As I try to make my way to the white tent Miles had mentioned for make-up and dress rehearsals, photographers and reporters jostle for position,

pulls me away, my tense muscles finally begin to loosen. The unmistakable sound of a camera hitting the pavement fills the air as a

You hanging in there? We’re sorry we couldn’t come get you. We had a ton of things to take care of, including calling boutiques and

my heart flutters

I’ll

blur of

transform me into a vision of perfection for the press. I am surrounded by a

an air of

he chimes and twirls them around. “Which one do you prefer: lavender, white, or pale

I feel overwhelmed at the variety of styles and colors. The dresses are stunning,

Miles,” I reply, my voice betraying a hint of uncertainty.

soft chuckle escapes Miles, as though my comment is old news to

It’s the Sponsor’s Gala, not a funeral. We want you to stand out, and these colors will make it

I run my fingers over the white chiffon with puffed sleeves, I’m struck

one.

a nod of approval and shoves the dress into

let’s work some

I’m amazed that it fits me perfectly. Like a glove, not too tight and not too loose, and the