Entered in the Alien Bride Lottery by Margo Collins (easy readers txt) 📕

now. If I was lucky, I’d blow my introductory interview and be home on the next outbound shuttle.

 ”Let’s get you dressed in something more appropriate, shall we?” the Poltien continued.

I glanced down at the white sundress I’d pulled out of the white closet. I hadn’t even looked in the mirror, but I was pretty sure it was completely sheer. Otherwise, I might have tried to keep it, too. ”Fine. Let’s see what you have.”

With a wide smile, the silvery alien opened the door and wheeled in a garment rack with dresses in practically every color available. I’d watched the Bride Games often enough to know what came next. First, they’d take me to the arena to be interviewed. And then they’d whisk me off for a “makeover,” alien-style. I’d never realized how much of the makeup and wardrobe elements were planned behind the scenes first, though.

“What are your names?” I asked as the two conferred over the clothing.

“I’m Drindl,” the silvery alien said, pronouncing her name with a sound like a ringing bell in a way I was sure I’d never be able to reproduce.

“And I am called Plofnid,” the Poltien said, its nostril-braid waving as it spoke. I’d always wondered what the significance of the hair from one nostril might be, but the Bride Games broadcast never focused on the various assistants beyond an occasional interview about what they did for the brides or which brides and grooms they were rooting for.

“I think this one,” Drindl said, holding up a sleek burgundy evening outfit with a split skirt and a fitted bodice. “You’ll be able to move well in it, and it will accentuate your curves nicely.” She glanced back and forth between the dress and me. “The highlights in your hair will pick up the color, too. It’s perfect.”

My hands reached out of their own accord to touch the silky fabric. She was absolutely right. I would look stunning in it.

“No,” I announced. “I hate it.”

I didn’t, of course. But I didn’t want to win this damn reality show.

Playing to lose, I reminded myself.

I moved to the garment rack and began flipping past the dresses, muttering to myself the entire time. “No, no, no...” Then I paused. I held my arm up next to the dress to see how the color looked against my skin. Then I pulled it off the rack entirely, gazed down the skirt, checked out the bodice, and finally held it up triumphantly. “This is the one.”

Drindl and Plofnid gasped, covering their mouths with their hands and glancing at each other in dismay.

The dress was a bright, turquoise blue—similar to the skin color of the guy I’d run into earlier, I thought, but then banished the idea from my mind. The fitted skirt flared out at the bottom in a mermaid style that would be virtually impossible to walk in. The sweetheart neckline had a ruffle made out of the same material that flared at the bottom.

And the rest of it—every bit that wasn’t ruffle or flare—was covered in turquoise sequins that flashed a hot pink whenever I brushed against them.

It was perfectly hideous.

And it was definitely made for a blonde Barbie-doll type with a tan. It would clash with my dark hair and pale skin in ways that would make Jas wonder if I’d lost my mind.

Assuming she was back home watching on TV—and I found myself hoping she would be. Tears welled up in my eyes as I thought of my life back on Earth.

Drindl, catching sight of my tears, mistook the reason for them. “Oh, darling,” she called out in her bell-like voice. “There’s no need to cry. If you love the dress that much, you should absolutely wear it.”

“Oh, yes,” Plofnid echoed. “Let’s try it on you and get it fitted.”

I turned to hide my smile from them.

The two aliens got me into the hideous dress and tucked and pinned until it fit me to their satisfaction.

“Now,” Drindl said, “you’ll find your interview suit on the right-hand side of your closet. If you’ll put it on, we can style your hair, and you’ll be ready to head to the arena.”

I put one hand to my head. As I suspected, my dark curls had gone totally frizzy as I slept. “I love my hair exactly as it is.”

I saw Drindl swallow as she took in the wild corkscrews of hair sticking out in all direction. “I see.”

“The natural look is in these days.” I spoke as if confiding a great secret. Drindl’s skin turned even paler, if possible. “No,” I continued, opening the closet door, “let me just pull on this interview suit and I’ll be ready to go.”

In the closet, there were actually three suits—one black, one white, and one a dark blue, all cut to flatter the brides’ figures. I knew from viewing the Bride Games all these years that contestants usually wore the white or black one during non-Game activities.

Play to lose.

I was starting to enjoy it as a motto.

I pulled the white one out. “This,” I said happily, pulling on the skirt and then the jacket.

“Let me at least give you a little blush,” Drindl said faintly.

“No. I want the Khanavai warriors to know exactly what they’ll be getting with me,” I replied cheerfully, digging around in the bottom of the closet until I found a pair of ugly, clompy boots.

Plofnid whimpered in distress.

“I’m ready. Let’s go.” When neither of my stylists moved, I swept past them, out the door and into the hall, my boots making satisfying thumps as I walked. “Which way?”

Drindl gathered herself with visible effort and joined me. “Down the hall and to the right. Step into the first chute you see. It will take you to the arena. Vos is interviewing the brides there. You’ll see the line. Just join in at the end.”

“Great.” I smiled a huge smile and waved goodbye, then turned and left as Plofnid joined Drindl in the hall and the two watched me, their expressions forlorn.

The chute looked like a