Jessalyn Netherfield
"Jessalyn!" A bundle of dirty clothes hits me in the face. "I need these washed for the reaping tonight." I groan and start to walk out the door. Moyenne stops me.
"Don't sass me! You're the worst sister ever!" I brush past her while she flips her black hair. As soon as I step out of the house, I fill my lungs with fresh air. Well, it has traces of gas and coal, but it's better outside then indoors, trapped inside the tiny shack Moyenne and I call a home. The narrow, familiar, busy streets of District 12 come into focus. Now, I have to go to the Hawthornes so Hazelle, my laundress of choice, can wash Moyenne's dress. As I step inside the small shack, her little daughter Posy looks up and runs over to me.
"Jessa! I missed you. When you're gone, Katniss comes over and she's not as nice to me." I pick her up and hug her.
"Hey Posy! I missed you too!" Posy is basically my sister, because I come over here so often, and not just for laundry. Hazelle, her mother and the mother of so many others, walks in briskly.
"Well, what do we have here? Miss Netherfield, come to save our lives?" I giggle and hand her the bundle.
"Moyenne needs this washed for the reaping, please." She nods and starts for the little back room that she uses as a washroom. Before she disappears from sight, I stop her.
"Mrs. Hawthorne?" I ask nervously.
"Yes? What is it, Jessalyn?" She answers distractedly.
"Where's Gale?" She turns around to face me fully, with a knowing smile on her familiar Seam face. I'm just asking about my best friend!
"Out with Katniss. They'll be back any minute now." I sigh and prepare for a wait when the door opens. Katniss and Gale are bickering about a trade.
"We could have gotten way more for that squirrel." Katniss whines, adjusting her empty game bag.
"We need to remain on good terms with Greasy Sae" Gale counters in his smooth, deep voice that sounds like home to me. I lean against the wall.
"He's right, you know. She won't haggle too much. And it's only a squirrel." They both stare at me in surprise. Gale runs over and hugs me, my blond hair mingling with his dark.
"Jessa! I missed you so much. Hunting isn't the same without you." I smile at his kind words and I'm on cloud nine. Then, a harsher, less familiar voice brings me back to reality.
"Ahem! What do you mean? You have me." Katniss says. Gale's other hunting buddy flutters her eyelashes, and I want to throw up my meager lunch. I respect her, but we're not really close. Do I care she's flirting with Gale? No. Well, yes. He's like my brother. I want the best for him. Just my brother. Gale blushes softly.
"I've known Jessalyn for a lot longer then I've known you, Catnip. Who do you think taught me to hunt and set those snares?" He says to her, not unkindly. An eyebrow rises, and her gray eyes widen. They're the same color as Gale's. I silently bemoan my unfortunate muddy blue-green eyes. Here, it is a crime to look different.
Paired with my dirty blond hair and small stature, many people say I look like an angel come to save the people of District 12. From what I hear, angels have blond hair and clear blue eyes. I must be the closest thing we have. When I doubt them, I think of my middle name, Grace. According to my parents, it is what I'm destined to bring and be to the District. Their saving grace. But I doubt them a lot. The fact that both of my parents abandoned me as a three-year-old doesn't help.
"So…Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!" I mock in a chirpy Capitol accent. Gale snickers, and Katniss holds back a smile and rolls her eyes. Katniss attempts small talk.
"So what are you wearing to the Reaping? I hope my mom lets me borrow one of her beautiful dresses, from the apothecary days." I'm surprised. She seemed like a girl who had her feet on the ground and her head firmly on her shoulders, not one of the merchant girls who will talk forever about boys and clothes. Then I realize she's trying to bring it back in my comfort zone. But that's not me either.
Gale silently scolds Katniss with a stern look. I look down, and inspect the worn leather hunting boots of Gale and Katniss.
"I guess I'll wear my usual reaping outfit," I state softly. The dress I have worn to every reaping is an originally pink blouse that is now faded rose, with multiple stains and rips, and a tattered white skirt. Both of them look at me.
"Oh no, not that old thing." Katniss says and I blush.
"No, you can't wear that." Ms. Hawthorne says decisively. We all jump and see her standing by the door. None of us had seen her.
"We'd let that go on much to long. We all look ratty in the Seam, but that was nearly indecent! I'll find you something much better," she continues. "Hmm… something light…airy…I got it!" She runs into the small room where she does her washing. When she comes out, in her hands is a very light cerulean dress with a delicate lace bottom and cream-colored sash. Katniss, Gale and I all gasp. Katniss extends her hands to touch it, but draws them back sharply. Ms. Hawthorne hands the garment to me. The soft fabric feels like water underneath my working, imperfect hands.
"Well?" She asks, trying to gauge my reaction.
"I've never seen anything so beautiful." I answer honestly. "But where did you get it?" I ask.
"Occasionally, the richer customers give me old clothes. I was saving this for Posy, but she's not big enough yet, and by the time it fits, it'll be old and dirty." She gently puts the dress in my arms.
"I'll give this back to you after the reaping," I promise. She smiles, but we both know my promise is a promise. I never go back on my word, no matter to whom or about what. The petty promise to a four-year-old will always be kept.
I finish carefully tying up my combed hair in a blue ribbon I found in Moyenne's room. She won't even notice its absence, and won't remember it was ever there. Suddenly she storms into my room. I remember an ancient proverb my other friend Lassa Lehart taught me. 'Speak of the devil and the devil shall appear.'
"Jessalyn! What are you wearing to the reaping? I can't have you look horrible if you go to the Capitol. That would be so embarrassing, for the whole District! " She finally looks at me. "Where did you get that dress?" She asks, dangerously softly.
"Mrs. Hawthorne lent it to me," I say. She throws her hands up in the air.
"So now we're charity! Wonderful." She rants on and on and I just daydream, trying to ignore the nervous feeling in my stomach. Thirty entries in the reaping glass balls say Jessalyn Netherfield on them in light pencil. Moyenne looks at me, apparently done with her lecture.
"I'm sorry. It won't happen again. " I say flatly. She misses the sarcasm in my voice and goes to get ready herself. I take in a deep breath and look at myself in the mirror one last time before standing up and walking out the door.
I head towards the town square, where the reapings are held every year. The Justice Building in the center is decorated with bright, colorful, cheery banners proclaiming the start of the 74th Hunger Games. I'm early; the roped areas for the children in the reaping are empty, and people are milling around the square, talking to friends and family, sending good hopes to all the qualified kids, and special wishes for the twelve-year-olds, who are together in a clump, and are looking scared out of their wits.
I scan the area for Gale, my friend Lassa, or even Katniss. I can't spot any of them, so I talk to Madge Undersee, the Mayor's daughter, for a while. She's quiet, rather like Katniss usually is around people. I feel people glancing at me in my new-looking dress. I stand out in the crowd of hand-me-downs and rags. It makes me rather uncomfortable, all the watching eyes, and I cross my arms across my chest and try to disappear in the steadily growing crowd. After well wishes for Madge, and the same for me, I set out in search for Gale. But I don't see him, and I take my place. And wait for the sick, twisted, deadly ceremony to begin.