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.

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

to speak. I could almost feel the weight of his disappointment in

Winterman? You know, the bombshell 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

thinks I’m uglier than my friend. It goes without saying that I got

“Right.”

Miles doesn’t seem to

he does notice,

way she’s grumbling. After my hour-long call, Ettie and I sit

can’t believe you convinced me to register,

know you love me, don’t let me hide out

me wear a dress that barely covers

my face isn’t enough, so they’re banking on my innocence. I’ve

her eyebrows forming

serious. Alina, who cares what they think? You’re so beautiful. It’s all about ratings and putting

I know she’s just

comfort in knowing that when the Mating Run starts on the trail, Ettie will be there with

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

on me and do my makeup, so I gotta get there pronto. Once you’re at the

we’re not

Ettie getting all the attention out of my

And so, I lie.

Miles said the dress fitting might drag on since I’m tinier

out a low groan and

back. Can’t believe it! I don’t give a damn about meeting the Alpha, and sponsors seem pointless

wanna go through what

from the couch with a snort, stifling a yawn,

happened the year before last year and ever since the Mating Run began, so it’s not gonna stop anytime soon. That’s when the pheromones start doing their thing, Alina. You’re good to go

“Well, yeah, but-”

in the shower. Can you lock up

══════════════════

my way home, the cold air

shower. With my fingers, I smooth down my hair, put on a face mask, slide on some sunglasses, and zip up my hoodie. Miles instructed me

is already bustling with reporters and photographers swarming around the closed off white tents. When I arrive, I am greeted by a small but enthusiastic

step of the bonding process, from registration to the final ceremony,

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, shoving each other and their equipment in

loosen. The unmistakable sound of a camera hitting the pavement fills the air as a man with shaved pink

things to take care of,

tent, my heart flutters with excitement, and I can’t

I’ll

after that passes by in a blur of motion, leaving me feeling disoriented

scent of hair products fill the room, as Miles and his team of skilled assistants work tirelessly to transform me into a vision of perfection for the press. I am surrounded by a fluttering of chiffon as they hold up dresses in varying shades of pastel, the sound of rustling fabric filling

an air of sophistication

canvases, he chimes and twirls them around. “Which one do you prefer: lavender, white, or pale pink? All chiffon. All

flick over the array of dresses, and I feel overwhelmed at the variety of styles and colors. The dresses are stunning, each one more delicate

I reply, my voice betraying a hint of uncertainty.

though

the Sponsor’s Gala, not a funeral. We want you to stand

fingers over the white chiffon with puffed

guess… this one.

approval and shoves the

choice. Now, let’s work some

Like a glove, not too tight and not too loose, and the hemline