Disclaimer: I own nothing at all associated with the Pokemon franchise and make no profit from this story.
Chapter One: A White Tomorrow
She always associated her mother with snow.
Maybe others would say that was a morbid way of looking at things, but she didn't think so.
The last time she saw her mother, the weather was snowy. They said the last thing her mother saw must have been snow. But that wasn't how Jessie remembered her, being buried in an avalanche. She never saw any such thing. She remembered the snow settled calmly on the ground outside the window as her mother was bidding her goodbye with a sweet kiss on the forehead and promises of a better tomorrow. The snow outside, bathing the world in pristine white, seemed to reinforce the hope of a clean slate, a chance to start again.
"So my birthday's in a couple of weeks," Jessie began, rousing her foster father and mother out of their morning stupor. They were all sitting around a flimsy wooden table in a small, stuffy room, each with a steaming bowl of a bland, gritty cereal in front of them. They often ate this for breakfast, and Jessie privately referred to it as 'gruel'. "I'll be ten years old, and I was thinking..." She looked down at her hands, tapping her index fingertips together nervously. "I was thinking of starting my Pokemon journey," she finished, gathering her spirit and looking up at the Fords expectantly.
"...Maybe?" she added, a bit timidly, when neither said anything for several long moments.
"Oh, Jessie, I..." Her foster mother, Prue, sighed, clicked her tongue, and looked anxiously over to her husband. "I don't know... Frank, help me out a little here..."
Jessie spoke before her stepfather could. "I know you don't like Pokemon..."
Frank interrupted her, his thick orange mustache twitching as he spoke. Years later, Jessie would remember very little about what her foster family looked like- she wasn't even sure she remembered the color of Prudence Ford's hair. But she always remembered that terribly ugly mustache.
"We've never said we hated Pokemon, Jessie, don't make up stories," Frank said sternly. "We're just not that kind of a family. We're not Pokemon people."
We're not a family at all, Jessie thought resentfully, sighing softly in frustration. A little bead of sweat dripped down her neck into the back of her shirt. It was so early in the morning, and already sweltering in the little house. After noon, it would be unbearable.
"Right," Prue agreed. She laughed a little, turning to Jessie. "So, dear, where did you get this idea to become a Pokemon trainer from? It's not what we've been raising you to become."
This conversation wasn't proceeding at all like Jessie had hoped. She hated being laughed at, and while she'd laid awake all last night, thinking of how she could convince the Fords to let her go on this journey by overwhelming them with reasonable and mature arguments, it was maybe two minutes into the conversation and she lost her temper.
"Well, what are you raising me to become, other than a bozo who cooks disgusting hot cereal to eat everyday in the summer?!" Jessie shouted, and with a swipe of her arm, knocked her bowl off of the table onto the floor, where it promptly shattered.
Frank pushed his chair back and shot up from his seat, looming over the table and Jessie, his anger palpable. "Now what do you think you're doing, young lady?! You just destroyed our property and made a mess to boot! I should show you the back of my hand!"
Jessie trembled, but luckily, Prue was able to talk him down. "Frank," she said hurriedly, grabbing onto the arm he'd begun to raise, and starting to coax him back into his seat. "No, no, don't do that, let's not get carried away, and anyway, it won't do any good. Jessie is very ungrateful, but that won't help her change her ways."
Red in the face, Frank settled back in his seat. He looked at his wife. "She's the worst one yet, Prue," he growled, shaking his head. "Out of all the kids we've taken in, I never saw one with a worse attitude. She's a bad seed and make no mistake."
Prue cooed and clucked to pacify her husband down, stroking his arm with her hand while she stroked his ego with murmured falsehoods about what a good father he was. It made Jessie want to puke.
"Jessie," said Prue sharply, after Frank had been sufficiently calmed and was taking a long swig of coffee. She snapped her fingers and gestured toward the kitchen, pointing first at a broom and dustpan, then at a sponge on the sink. "Clean up the mess you made. Now."
In the afternoon, Jessie sat as near to the open window as she could, her red hair pulled back into a bun and periodically putting aside her mending to fan herself with one of the ancient magazines Prue kept on a dusty stand beside the couch. She and her foster mother were working on repairing the household's damaged clothes- sewing on patches and buttons and the like. The heat was as bad as Jessie feared, but still she kept fingering the strands of hair that fell loose from the bun she was wearing for coolness.
Her hair was growing longer. It fell past her shoulder for the first time in years. Up until now, she hadn't been permitted to keep her hair past chin-length- Prue always cut it.
"Shorter hair is just easier to maintain," she would always explain while Jessie protested. "It's less to deal with. I don't have the time to style your hair and you're too young to be trusted with keeping it from looking like a Raticate's nest."
Jessie dearly hoped she wouldn't be forced to cut her hair this time. She thought her hair was beautiful.
While she and Prue were occupied with the mending, Frank came in with a suitcase packed and said goodbye to them. Prue stood up to embrace him, but Jessie only stood up to give him a bow and wish him a safe trip, and only when Prue prompted her with an unmistakable look. After the front door had closed behind him, Jessie asked her foster mother a question.
"Why does Frank always have to leave so often?" It wasn't like she wanted him to stay. She simply didn't understand why he'd chosen to make his living this way- or even what he really did to make a living. She only knew that he often left on 'business trips' and stayed gone for weeks or sometimes months at a time. It was very confusing.
Prue looked slightly pleased, as though she'd interpreted Jessie's question as a sign of affection for Frank and approved.
"It's just how he makes his money, dear. It's how he keeps a roof over our heads."
That was nothing that Jessie didn't know, and anyway, she'd heard that one before back when her mother was still...around. She frowned, and looked up at the ceiling, at the spot where it had leaked last week when it rained. She looked at the shirt on her lap, the badly faded fabric, worn thin in the areas where it hadn't yet ripped. It was only fit to be thrown out, not to be repaired.
Furtively, she dabbed at the back of her sweaty neck with the shirt.
"But..." she began, and then stopped, considering how best to go about making her suggestion. She couldn't simply blurt out, It doesn't really seem worth it for him to travel so much when it barely pays him any money at all. At least, not at the start.
"You must miss him," she finally settled on, "when he goes away. Why can't he just get a job here in town?"
Prue shrugged. "There's nothing here that suits his special skills," she said without looking at Jessie.
"Well, then, in the next town over," Jessie put forward. "Somewhere closer to home." She really couldn't care less about having him close to home. She just knew that whatever work he currently did wasn't paying much. She had the feeling that he traveled around looking for odd jobs, which weren't always available and paid a low wage. A steady job would be better. Then maybe they could afford air conditioning and other nice things, and the other kids in town wouldn't laugh at her for being so poor.
"And," she continued, "even if it takes a little while, there's always those checks that come in the mail to tide us over while he looks for a new job."
Prue abruptly laid aside the pants she was attaching a patch to, and, very stiffly, turned her head to look at Jessie. Her expression was unreadable, but she grabbed her foster daughter's arm so hard and so unexpectedly that Jessie, distracted, pricked her finger with the needle she was holding. She cried out softly and stared at the little spot of blood that appeared.
"How do you know about those?" Prue inquired, seemingly calmly.
Jessie shrugged, popping her finger into her mouth and gently sucking it. She stared at Prue, utterly surprised that the woman was surprised to learn of Jessie's knowledge of those checks. It had never occurred to Jessie that they were supposed to be a secret. If they were, why wouldn't Frank and Prue have tried to hide them better?
"They come from some guy named George, right?" Jessie asked, checking to make sure the bleeding on her finger had stopped before pushing a loose piece of hair back behind her ear and resuming her sewing.
There was a pause.
"No," said Prue in a cold voice. "Not exactly. Jessie, that money is...practically nothing. And it's rude of you to ask about it. It's not yours, after all. You don't know anything about it, obviously. So it's not for you to determine how it should be spent." She gave Jessie's arm a slight squeeze and it was as though she was trying to look kindly at the young girl, but it didn't quite work. "Understand?"
Jessie felt like that question was meant to be simple, but she was still filled with a great sense of uncertainty. The Fords controlled the household's money, of course, since that was what parents were supposed to do. However, Jessie sometimes felt as if she understood even less about what was going on under her guardians' roof than most kids did.
What did Frank really do for a living? Where did those checks come from and what were they for? Why did Frank and Prue take her in if they didn't even like her?
So she hesitated before slowly nodding and muttering, "Uh huh."
Prue sighed and looked at her dubiously.
A thought occurred to Jessie, and she began to get excited. "I'm not trying to get your money. If I'm costing you too much," she said with cautious optimism. "I know something that can help. If you let me start my Pokemon adventure…"
"No," interrupted Prue. "Jessie, don't start on this. I simply don't think it's a good idea and that's that."
"But why?" Jessie couldn't keep a whining tone out of her voice. She couldn't help it. The thought that she wouldn't be able to become a Pokemon trainer broke her heart. It was a secret dream she'd been cherishing for years. "Prue, I love Pokemon, and I want to go out and see the world. You wouldn't need to worry about me, my Pokemon would take care of me. Don't you see, if I had Pokemon, I would finally have friends!" To her shame, tears pricked the corners of her eyes. "I feel so lonely sometimes! Those...those losers at school don't understand me, they pick on me, call me names, I'm sick of trying to be their friend! But Pokemon are different. Th-they would...they would give me a chance! Won't you give me a chance, Prue? Please? I'll become a great trainer, you'll see! I'll become rich and famous, and then I can repay you and Frank, for taking me in out of the goodness of your hearts. I'll buy you a big house and a new car, and- "
Prue cut her off, putting her finished mending into a basket and coming to stand over Jessie. She patted her on top of the head and said these words and these alone:
"The best thing in this world you can hope to be is practical."
It was the evening before Jessie's tenth birthday and the oppressing humidity of another hot day had opened the skies to unleash gallons of rain. Jessie had been unable to avoid getting drenched before ducking into the shop she'd been on the way to, and she huffed in displeasure as she pushed the wet hair back from her face, and blushed with embarrassment as she caught sight of her reflection in the door of a refrigerated case. She smoothed her old, wet, rumpled skirt and grabbed a shopping basket, starting toward a random aisle to begin her search for the ingredients she needed.
She stopped, however, when she heard a couple of kids that she'd passed near the doors speaking in hushed, excited tones.
"Oh, man, do you see that? There's a limo outside! I never saw anything so fancy!"
"It's almost as long as this entire block!"
Another youngster ran inside the store, dripping wet from the rain and joined the boy and girl who had been gossiping next to the doors.
"You should get a load of these people across the street! They're in these crazy formal clothes, it's insane! The woman has a huge umbrella, but she still looks mad as a Gyarados to be out in this rain!" He laughed. "And she talks all funny." He then demonstrated, putting on a delicate-sounding female voice with a pronounced twang. "Ly-ike thi-is."
"They've got a kid with them," said the other boy, gazing out the door at the scene.
The girl did likewise, and set to giggling. "He looks pathetic!"
"I wonder if they're moving here," mused the first boy.
"Not a chance," declared the other one dismissively. "Not to our dump of a town. Looks like they're just shopping across the street. Probably just passing through."
The three kids wandered away from the door, and Jessie wandered back towards it. She pressed her nose against the glass and looked out across the street, where, indeed, an immense shiny black limousine was parked next to the curb. A man and woman in very elegant dress stood under the awning of the clothing store which stood opposite to the supermarket. Their backs were to Jessie, and they appeared to be speaking to the shop owner.
Inside the limo, a young boy around Jessie's age was just visible. He had lavender-colored hair and he, too, was turned away from her, his head sticking out of the rolled-down window, and Jessie thought she heard him yelling and trying to get the couple's attention, though she couldn't make out what he was saying. His father, however, could speak much louder, and briefly turning to him, ordered him very sternly to roll up the window before he ruined the upholstery.
Like the other kids, Jessie soon gave up on watching the rich family. Even though it was the most interesting thing she'd seen in town for a long time, it still wasn't that riveting that these wealthy jerks were deigning to grace her little town with their presence. All it did was make Jessie feel a surge of jealousy.
She pushed it aside and resumed her shopping, concentrating on the fact that since tomorrow was her birthday, she was actually going to get to eat some cake. It wasn't going to be a very fancy cake- no chocolate cream with lots of complicated iced swirls and designs on top of its thick frosting. Prue was just going to whip up one of the simple cakes she sometimes liked to bake. They were quick and easy, according to Prue, and according to Jessie, they were largely flavorless, but at least they were sweet. And this cake was being made just for her.
She hummed to herself as she hunted for the flour. She put it in her shopping basket and moved on to find the sugar, before setting forward to grab the butter, eggs, and the milk.
At the back of the store, there was a bulletin board next to the dairy cases. Jessie shuffled over and lingered there to look at all the items tacked up. The rain was still coming down hard outside, so she wanted to take her time in the store in hopes that it would die down.
Jessie let her gaze travel over each advertisement and notice.
Flyers advertised things like rummage sales and guitar lessons and a poster announced that someone's Weedle was missing and answered to the name of Wendy. There was a reward for the missing Pokemon, but Jessie couldn't help but wonder just how people were supposed to tell the difference between Wendy and any other Weedle out there.
Then, something caught her eye.
Your Pokemon Journey Starts At Home!
Jessie felt a little pit in her stomach, as she relived the disappoint she'd felt when her guardians had denied her request to start off on her Pokemon adventure. Ever since then, she'd been trying to reopen the conversation again with Prue by making comments here and there about the advantages of letting her become a Pokemon trainer right away. So far, Prue was batting them away quicker than she could bat an eyelash, and it sent a wave of despair through Jessie to think that she might forever be forbidden from setting off her journey. "Pokemon Journey" and "Home" were very sensitive topics to her at the moment, and she at first misread the text as 'Your Pokemon Journey Stays at Home'!
Jessie read further on the flyer. There were several of them stacked on a pile of crates beneath the bulletin board. She picked one up and read quietly out loud to herself:
"When you enroll in Pokemon Technical Institute, that is. Hone your Pokemon battle skills and knowledge in the comfort of your own home. Our campus i luxurious. Our classes are rigorous. It's the premier prep school sponsored and accredited by the Pokemon League. Graduates guaranteed admission! Scholarships available! Pay us a visit and find your own path to the Pokemon League."
She stopped and thought about it.
"Wow, a school where you can learn how to become a master trainer. But that seems a little dull compared to getting to travel all over the world."
Still, she impulsively took a flyer, figuring that it probably didn't make much sense, but as she shoved the flyer into the pocket of her skirt, she thought that it might be a good option to have on the back burner, especially if scholarships were available.
Jessie finished up collecting the items she needed for the birthday cake recipe, paid at the register, and was happy to discover, after taking a peek outside, that the rain had stopped. She left the store, happily skipping over a puddle outside the door, and, putting one foot out in front of her, was about to start down the sidewalk.
However, as she looked casually around at her stifling, nowhere little town after the rain, she noticed something, resting on the ground across the street. Something glittered in the gutter, even on this gray day with the absence of sunlight. Jessie hurried over to find out what it was.
Jessie crouched down and scooped the item up in her hand. She gasped.
It was the most gorgeous, expensive-looking thing she'd ever seen. It felt thrilling, but surreal, to hold the heavy, gem-encrusted broach in her hand. Her hand didn't feel posh enough to hold it- instead, it strangely felt...grubbier than usual. Jessie frowned. She didn't like feeling out of her league, especially when it was just a stupid piece of jewelry intimidating her. Yet, it was so shiny, so sparkling, so pretty, so glamorous!
It was hard to believe that it was now hers, but it was also incredibly fun to believe that it was now hers!
Jessie stared at the glimmering rubies, emeralds, and sapphires, circles within circles of them, surrounding an enormous diamond in the middle. It was only after noticing the massive size of the diamond that it occurred to her- and only very briefly- that the stones in the broach might not be real. But then she remembered seeing the limousine that had been parked where she was kneeling, and the extravagant clothes on the people who had been riding in it. The broach most definitely contained real stones, and Jessie trembled with excitement to hold it.
This could solve everything! If she sold this one piece of jewelry, it could most likely feed her and her guardians for years! They could buy better clothes, and afford other luxuries they'd been denied, like a nicer home, and vacations, so Frank and Prue could relax and not always be in wretched moods! And then...and then they'd surely allow her to become a Pokemon trainer and start off on her journey!
What a stroke of luck! she thought, beaming to herself.
"Well, well, well, it looks little Jessie is actually living in the gutter now," came a sneering voice that Jessie recognised at once as belonging to Randy, a boy who went to her school and was a grade above her.
He was also a total jerk who liked to bully her.
"Go away, Randy!" Jessie yelled, still kneeling next to the curb. Her hands balled into fists at the sight of him.
"Make me," taunted Randy in a singsong voice, leaning down obnoxiously into her face.
The fists squeezed together tighter. "Don't tempt me," Jessie spat out at him, feeling like she really wanted to slug him. She held the broach inside one fist, though, and as her fingers constricted around it, the gems and metal dug painfully into her skin, and she accidentally dropped the piece of jewelry.
Randy laughed. "Oh, of course you want to fight, you ugly little bum! Well, from now on, my Pokemon are going to be doing my fighting for me. How are you going to like to it when I sick my Charizard on you, Jessie? I'm getting my starter Pokemon next week for my Pokemon journey. If you get one, too, we can have a battle. I'm not afraid. You're such a loser, you'll never win at anything." He grinned a wide, mean grin. ""But, then again, your fake parents probably can't afford to send you on your Pokemon journey, orphan. Me, on the other hand...I've already got all my supplies. Check this out."
He pulled back his jacket to reveal that he had a whole half dozen Pokeballs clipped to his belt.
"You don't know anything, Randy," Jessie replied as haughtily as she could manage. She reached out to retrieve the broach, but Randy had spotted where it had fallen on the ground and quickly stepped on her hand.
Jessie cried out in pain and pulled away hard while cursing at him.
"Damn you, you piece of crap, what the hell are you doing?!" She massaged her injured hand to lessen the pain.
"Ha! What are you doing, you trash? It looks like you've stolen something." Randy swiftly knelt down and stuck out his hand, snatching the glittering broach out from under Jessie's nose while she was distracted.
"No!" Jessie yelled, her heart giving a leap of dread. "Give that back! It's mine!"
Randy snorted. "Yeah, right. You expect me to believe that? How could you ever afford something like this when I heard you couldn't even afford to pay your power bill last month? How often does that happen, anyway? According to my parents, it wasn't the first time. You guys should just get a Pikachu or something to power your shack, since you can't afford normal electricity. Of course, you probably can't afford the Pikachu, either, and it would starve to death."
Randy was holding the broach in his hand, bouncing it gently up and down against his palm. "Finders keepers," he sneered.
"That's why it's mine!" Jessie cried, feeling that her dreams of a life of ease and comfort had slipped through her fingers along with that broach. "I found it! Give it back!" She lunged for Randy, pushing him down, flat on his back.
"Oof!" Randy grunted, as he smacked back into the concrete.
Jessie's tackle sent the broach flying out of his hand, and the luxurious jewelry item skidded over the ground before plummeting down a sewer grate.
"Noooo!" moaned Jessie, reaching out in vain in the direction of the already lost item. An elbow to her gut then had her groaning for a different reason, and she reared back. Randy roughly shoved her off of him.
"Look what you did!" he yelled, as thunder rumbled in the background, threatening more rain. "You idiot!"
Look what you did, look what you did… Something cracked! against the pavement when she landed. It wasn't a bone, it came from her grocery bag. Jessie sucked in a suspenseful breath and squeezed her eyes shut, plunging a hand into the bag...and feeling broken eggs, the slime of the yolks and whites coating her fingers.
Jessie looked over at Randy, sprawled out across from her, but moving to get to his feet, a volatile gray sky behind him. Rage began to bubble up in her.
"You're the idiot!" she retorted hotly, launching herself back up into a standing position. "Why can't you just learn to leave me alone? You've broken my eggs!" She held out the bag and swung it back and forth in front of his eyes.
Randy scoffed, back on his feet and rubbing his elbow. "So what? Big deal. They're only eggs. You want me to really give you something to cry about?"
He rushed at her before she could do anything about it, and grabbed her wrist, throwing her down and tearing the bag from her hand in one quick, rough motion.
Jessie looked on, making a high-pitched, distraught noise in the back of her throat, as Randy shoved the bag with the birthday cake ingredients down the drain, sending them down to follow the jeweled broach.
"There," Randy snickered hatefully. "Now you've lost everything. Now your stupid family will probably starve."
"Noooo…" Jessie whimpered.
The rage that had been building broke just as the sky was threatening to break. She flew at Randy again, seizing his collar in both hands as they both fell over onto the ground.
Jessie sat on his chest and shook him by the collar, making his head smack against the street a few times before pulling back one arm and sending her fist sailing toward Randy's face.
It was a one-punch K.O. and Randy gave a little groan before losing consciousness. Jessie crawled off of him and then stayed there kneeling in the gutter, catching her breath and trying to calm herself enough to begin walking back home, where she was sure not to receive a warm welcome. She noticed for the first time that her arm was badly scraped from the concrete, but although it did hurt some, that's not what she paid the most attention to as she was climbing to her feet.
One little ruby must have been knocked loose from the broach before it disappeared forever down the sewer grate. Jessie picked it up and examined it. It was beautiful, shining in her hand, but so small. It might be the biggest stone in a fairy princess's crown, but for a human, it was scarcely big enough to be the center stone in a dainty ring. Jessie wondered how much it was worth.
The rain began to fall again as Jessie stood back up straight and placed the Pokeballs and ruby inside of her pocket with the flyer from Pokemon Tech. She would be wet through by the time she got home. That flyer was probably doomed. She stared down at Randy, still knocked out cold on the ground.
She swallowed hard and tried to feel victorious.
"That's what you get," she told her unconscious tormenter. "You ruined my dream of selling that broach. And you ruined my birthday. So I'm taking your Pokeballs."
As exciting as it was, though, to get her hands on some Pokeballs she could use on the adventure she was determined to someday embark on, it didn't fully console her when she'd lost the broach, which could have given her so much more...and worse, when she'd lost her birthday cake ingredients. Despite her best efforts, Jessie began to sniffle, and then slowly, to cry.
She'd be in for it when she got home. But no matter how much she'd like it to be otherwise, there was nowhere else for her to go right now. So, soaked through and sobbing, Jessie made her way there.
"Well, then, I guess you just won't have a birthday cake," stated Prue with surprising calmness as Jessie stood in the doorway, with tear-stained cheeks and clasping her scraped arm.
Not a word was said about Jessie's injury, or any sympathy shown over the emotional pain she'd suffered. Jessie slid down the door to sit slumped on the floor.
"No...no birthday cake?" She was crestfallen, but she had suspected as much.
"That's just the way it has to be," Prue declared coldly from where she perched on the old, battered sofa as if it were a shabby throne. Behind her, water dripped down from the ceiling and made tap-tap-plink sounds as it rained into a pan placed on the floor.
"Jessie, I'm sure you're disappointed, but I am awfully disappointed in you. How could you be so thoughtless as to put that bag in danger? You foolish girl, it was full of things I'd set precious money aside to buy you, so you could have a special treat on your birthday. And you just neglected it to get into a scrape with some boy from your school over a piece of costume jewelry you found in the gutter?" She never once raised her voice during this whole speech, but spoke with an eerie composure.
Jessie was about to argue that she was quite certain there was no way the broach was costume jewelry, and also to tell her that she'd saved the little ruby, but quickly changed her mind. Prue likely wouldn't believe her, anyway, and whether she did or not, Jessie couldn't risk her taking that little ruby away.
"Don't be mad! Please don't be mad!" Jessie begged. She herself was angry as well as saddened and scared, and her voice showed it. "How can you be mad when it isn't my fault?" she demanded.
At that, Prue did raise her voice. "You were loitering in the streets instead of heading straight home!" she yelled, with her hands on her hips. "Jessie, I swear, sometimes it's like you're just looking for trouble!"
"I am not!" Jessie protested, stamping her foot. "I was only looking at a pretty piece of jewelry, that's all, and Randy had to come up to me and start picking on me! It's not like I wanted him to call me names and push me down! He's such a creep! All I did was defend myself!"
"You should have walked away," said Prue argued, crossing her arms and shaking her head. "You shouldn't have given him the chance to attack you. And you shouldn't have been sitting on the street to begin with. Haven't you been taught better than that? You must have looked like such a little ragamuffin. People will think we've taught you no manners!"
A blush of bitter resentment colored Jessie's cheeks. To have her foster mother repeat that nasty bully Randy's words stung. Besides, it was Frank and Prue's fault in the first place that people thought she was some street urchin. They were the ones who'd made her look like one!
"You're the ones who made me look like a little ragamuffin!" Jessie shrieked in furious frustration, and watched Prue's face turn beet red. "You and Frank! You're the reason I look like a beggar on the street!"
"If not for us, you'd be one!" Prue insisted, fire in her eyes, making Jessie shrink back. "We took you in out of the goodness of our hearts! You're lucky to have a roof over your head, little Miss Jessie! Do you think you're some little princess? Your mother was no better- she didn't have two cents to rub together. Or, much common sense, either, as a matter of fact."
To have Prue speak ill of Jessie's real mom was a gut punch to the young girl.
"She left to make a better life for me! That's what they said, that's what everyone always said! She loved me, and she loved her Pokemon! She was an amazing trainer, and she would have encouraged me to become an amazing trainer, too! And if I'd had a Pokemon with me today, I would've been able to fight Randy off! My Pokemon would've protected me and- "
"Enough!"
Her foster mother's shout was practically a roar. Prue turned her back on Jessie and ordered,
"You'll go to bed early tonight as punishment for your carelessness. Go and get your pajamas on."
Jessie almost refused, but thought the better of it. Disobedience would get her nowhere in this instance, and besides, bed sounded like the best option, anyway.
It was frequently hard to find things to do for fun around the house- which was why Jessie preferred to play outdoors. But now it was pouring rain, so that was a no-go. The Fords didn't have a T.V., so Jessie sometimes had to get creative to find ways to pass the time. More often than not, Prue would see her unoccupied and make her help out with some boring chores.
So Jessie concluded that there was nothing worth staying up for, even if she wasn't tired from an oppressively hot day, followed by a highly stressful evening. Which she definitely was.
Alone in her room, she got changed like her guardian had instructed. She hid the tiny ruby and dampened-but-somehow-still-intact flyer for Pokemon Tech inside of her sock drawer, then gathered up all the Pokeballs she'd taken from Randy and climbed into bed. Jessie carefully lined up the Pokeballs against her body, imagining what it would be if they actually had Pokemon inside them. Imagining what it would be like to be surrounded by friends, curled up and ready for bed with her Pokemon pals.
A few minutes later, Prue came in to say goodnight to her.
"I'm sorry you had a bad day," the woman said, standing just inside Jessie's room. She slowly walked over to the bed. "And that you ruined the stuff for your cake. I'd buy the replacement ingredients, but times are tough right now."
When are they ever not? Jessie wondered sadly.
Prue came to stand beside her foster daughter's bed. "That's also why there's no birthday present for you. We just can't afford it right now.
Jessie forced an awkward smile and feigned lightness in her voice when she said,
"You know what would be a cheap present? Sending me off on my Pokemon journey."
Prue laughed heartily. "It really wouldn't be. We'd need to buy potions and Pokeballs."
Jessie squirmed self-consciously, feeling every inch like a criminal hiding her hoard. But she didn't feel as guilty as she probably should have. Randy had made fun of her, he'd pushed her down and made her ruin the ingredients for her cake. He'd stolen the pretty brooch that would have done so much good for Jessie's household, leaving only the small, fiery ruby. He'd deserved what he'd gotten, and Jessie refused to think anything else!
If only those Pokeballs had come with some Pokemon!
Jessie stared up at her foster mother defiantly.
"Well, Frank left to go make money. Is he going to bring me back a birthday present? He didn't even wish me a happy birthday before he left."
Prue looked furious.
"You shouldn't say such things," she snapped, then took a breath and softened her tone slightly. "He's not such a bad man, Jessie. Remember, he always comes back. That's more than your father ever did, isn't it?" She asked that last part with a hint of a syrupy quality to her voice that set Jessie's teeth on edge.
But all she could do was shake her head and mutter, "I never met my father."
Prue nodded sagely, as though she'd just accomplished something important.
"Since I'm growing up...since I'm ten whole years old tomorrow," said Jessie, watching Prue's expression shift to concern, "would it be okay if I asked some grown-up questions about my family? I just want to know about my past, Prue. A girl needs to know...especially a young woman, like I'm becoming. It will help me understand myself."
Her foster mother's visible apprehension had increased. "The past is the past. What more could you want to know?"
"Lots of things!" Jessie announced, with an enthusiasm she could not temper. "I know next to nothing about my past."
"There's nothing much to tell that wouldn't be a burden to you," Prue said firmly. As if knowing that such a vague response was unlikely to satisfy Jessie, the woman paused and appeared to be considering her options.
"Your mother's name was Miya, did you know that?"
Jessie gave a huff of displeasure. That was such a basic piece of information as to be crushingly disappointing.
"Yeah. I knew that," she said quietly.
Prue appeared to become frustrated with her and apparently decided to try a scare tactic next.
"I really don't know what else to share with you, Jessie. You know your mother's name. You know why she isn't here anymore. Anything else might be too much. There's a darkness to your past that you can't even imagine." Prue's voice grew correspondingly dark and made Jessie shiver.
A long silence followed.
"My mom was a Pokemon trainer, wasn't she?" Jessie asked, looking down at her blanket and wishing so hard that Prue would tell her lots about what kind of trainer Miya had been. She looked back up at her foster mother nervously.
Prue scrutinized her carefully for a moment, then admitted, in a grudging sort of way, "Yes. She was a Pokemon trainer." She sighed and knelt down next to the bed. She reached out and stroked Jessie's cheek with the backs of her fingers. The girl froze. Prue had to lean across the bed a little ways to caress her, and Jessie was afraid she'd feel the Pokeballs hidden under the covers.
"She went on increasingly reckless journeys because she thought her Pokemon would protect her no matter where she went. But she was wrong. There are some things Pokemon can't protect you from. And that's why she never got to come back from her last journey."
Prue's gentle touch was so at odds with her harsh words that it made Jessie want to wince away, but she was afraid of disturbing the blanket and also didn't want to be scolded for being rude to her foster mom.
"It seems like..." Jessie began carefully, with an ache in her heart, "...it's always seemed like...to me...that there's no proof she isn't still alive." She'd never said it out loud before. To say one's greatest hope out loud for the first time is no small thing, and it made Jessie's yearning heart pound in her chest. She didn't remember much about her mother- only that she loved her, and that her mother had loved her back.
She looked to Prue almost frantically, not knowing what kind of support she expected to receive from her. There was none to be found, in any case.
"Jessie," Prue said flatly, "get a clue. It's been five years. If your mother's not dead, then where is she? Why did she abandon you for so long?"
Jessie swallowed thickly. This was something she'd done a lot of thinking about, how could it not be? She thought she'd come up with some possible answers, but as she looked Prue in the face before speaking them aloud, she worried they'd come out sounding fanciful to the point of impossible.
"Well...maybe she has amnesia, or she was kidnapped..." Jessie trailed off. Judging by Prue's expression, she was right to doubt she'd be taken seriously.
"But more than likely, what you've always been told is the truth," Prue stated briskly. She stood up from the floor. The moon was backlighting her and throwing curious shadows across her face. It made there look like there was a touch of evil about her, and Jessie had to glance away.
"You were making such a big deal about how old you are now, " said Prue. "Well, you're too old to be hanging onto these childish delusions, that's for sure."
She walked to the door, then turned back to say before she left, "Your mother is gone for good. Accept it."
The door clicked shut softly behind her, leaving Jessie alone in the dark and struggling not to start crying again. Under the covers, she held a Pokeball in her hand so tightly that she imagined waking up with an indelible imprint on her palm. Something that would forever mark her as a Pokemon trainer. The mark of her destiny.
The next morning, upon waking up, Jessie furiously kicked off the covers in her hot and stuffy little room. Then, she just as frantically pulled them back up, remembering the Pokeballs she'd concealed in the bed with her.
It was the morning of her tenth birthday. Jessie rolled over onto her back and wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her nightgown sleeve. She stared up at the ceiling and spoke out loud to the room.
"Happy birthday, Jess. You're ten years old now."
It was funny. She'd woken up with a sense of melancholy- not strange, considering what happened yesterday, and the precedent her other birthdays had set. But there was something else she was feeling, too...
It was the sense that there was something around the corner...something that was going to...happen, very soon.
She shook the covers down off her shoulders, enough to still be covering her illicitly-acquired loot.
Jessie got up and looked down at the bed. Her brows drew together angrily. How could she sense something very big coming for her, just around the corner? The anticipation, the excitement and impatience that stirred within her were doomed to go ungratified that day. What a foolish thought, to look forward to today at all!
A sudden fire filled her and blazed more and more as she recalled the pain the previous day had caused her. Being told she couldn't start her Pokemon journey. Frank frightening her with his threat to hit her. The expensive broach giving her hope of escaping her life of poverty, but then having that hope vanish down the sewer grate only minutes later. Losing her birthday cake ingredients. Being bullied by that awful Randy. And Prue being completely unsympathetic as usual about Jessie's wants and needs, and saying cruel things about her mother. Well, what would Jessie's mother do, if she were here? How would she want her beloved daughter to celebrate her birthday?
She'd...support my dream, Jessie thought to herself with certainty. She'd be proud of me, for wanting to follow in her footsteps and become a Pokemon trainer.
And with that, a decision was made. A black cloud had been cast over her day yesterday. But now, a plan was forming in Jessie's head, to ensure that she had a memorable birthday, and a clean start. A start as clean and sparkling as new winter snow.
A white tomorrow.
To be continued...