Page 2 of Resisting the Alien Commander

“It was yours,” Devon is the one who answers.

There’s a delay while my brain processes what she said.

“I’m sorry?”

“Your name was the last one called,” Lindsey replies.

I heard and understand what she said, but they have to be wrong. There’s no way my name was called because I didn’t enter.

“There has to be some kind of mistake.” I shake my head. “My name should never have been called.”

Before anyone can say anything else, the super bursts through the door.

“Everyone back to work. Now,” he barks.

We all scramble up from the tables, although I’m slower to rise. Shock has me nearly immobile.

“Don’t panic,” Olivia whispers as we walk back to our station. “You can decline, remember?”

That does give me a bit more peace of mind. Except I can’t help but wonder how my name got entered in the first place. Or how many more women’s names were read who didn’t ask to be entered.

The rest of the night passes in a blur. Finally, the shift bell rings and I head to the locker room to get my things so I can go home. Olivia meets me outside. The whole night I’ve been having a pity party for myself and its now hitting me that I’m losing my best friend.

“I’m going to miss you,” I tell her, trying not to cry.

“I’ll miss you, too. But we have all day to hang out together if you’re up for it tomorrow?”

It’s my one day off that I always spend with my mom, but for these extenuating circumstances, I don’t think she’ll mind.

“Definitely. I’ll come over around nine.” I can at least spend a couple hours with my mom first.

Olivia and I part ways with a goodbye hug. She heads south while I go west. The streets are dark and quiet. In this part of the bottom tier, the street lights frequently burn out. Someone is always calling to get them repaired, but often it’s a wasted effort. Which makes me wonder why the bottom tier women were the only ones eligible for this co-called bridal program.

Earth has long been divided into upper and bottom tiers, which is essentially those who have everything and those who don’t. The upper tier wants to keep us bottom tier folks under their thumb. They give us crumbs, expecting us to lick them up and be grateful for it. None of those rich pricks—the President included—has a single reason to allow us to go someplace things might actually be better. That’s the biggest reason why this all seems a bit suspect.

At last, I make it to our building and climb the stairs to the fifth floor apartment I share with my mom. I unlock the door, trying to remain as quiet as possible so I don’t wake her. Except she’s already awake and sitting on the sofa in the living room with the single lamp on the sideboard lit.

I should have known she wouldn’t be sleeping.

“They called my name in the bride lottery, but I didn’t enter it. I swear.” I haven’t moved from near the doorway since the door closed behind me.

“I know you didn’t, love,” my mom says. “I entered it for you.”

All the air is gone from lungs and I’m having trouble dragging in more. I walk forward but I’m barely aware I’m moving.

“Wh—what? Why would you do that?Howcould you do that?”

My mother pats the cushion next to her and I collapse onto the spot. She swivels toward me and takes my hands in hers. They’re warm around my cold ones.

“I did it because I love you,” she says.

“But if you loved me, you wouldn’t be trying to send me away.”

“Oh, baby.” She strokes the hair off my forehead, her eyes scanning my face. “I’m not sending you away. I’m letting you go.”

A watery laugh spills from my lips the same way the tears do from my eyes. “It’s the same thing, mama.”

“My sweet, brave Quinn.” Her thumb drags across my cheek bringing the wetness with it. “You are everything to me. My not-so-little girl. My heart. My love. It’s just you and me now. Except, I’m not always going to be around. When I’m gone, you’ll be alone, and I don’t want that for you. I want better for you. I want you to have a family. A husband. Children.”

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