Before The Mockingjay

My name is Jessamine.

I am Jessamine Messyla. I am fourteen. I am scared. Reaping day is quickly approaching, my name is in that cursed ball 3 times. I have never taken tesserae, my older sister, Zinnia, has done that for me and my mother all these years. However, she has turned nineteen this year, and starting next year, I will assume the role of supplying my family with the monthly ration. It's just us three in our tiny shack of a house. Me, my mom, and Zinnia. I had another sister, Amaryllis. She actually participated in the Hunger Games, long ago. She was picked off in the final eight. I thought she would win. Anyway, it's basically my family and that's it for being social, except for my one best friend, Aspen Himzer. We met while bargaining with pathetic trades at our black market, we've helped each other ever since. He's seventeen. His name is in eighteen times, he's taken tesserae for him and his mom since he turned twelve. He had two younger siblings, but they both passed years ago from starvation. There isn't much to do around here, unless you're rich, boredom is hand in hand with daily living. I have earned a meager living by scrounging around for the old textiles that nobody wants, and sewing them into beautiful clothes, then trading them around town. That's basically my life story, there's nothing else to tell.

I wake up. I get chills. Today is the day, reaping day. I slide out of bed and walk with a hollow soul towards a small chair where an outfit has been laid out for me, most likely from my mother. It's a beautiful brown patterned dress that falls just to my knees with short sleeves. It's beautiful, and I know that only my mothers steady hands could've stitched it. She must have made it just for me, just for this occasion. Next to it sits a pair of leather sandals, they must've cost mother a fortune! And on top of the dress lays a small, denim colored bracelet that my late sister gave to me the day she left for the hunger games those many years ago, something for me to hold on to. And I did, I held on to it for all these years and hold on to it now because suddenly the world is spinning. Memories from my beloved sister enter my mind, her running, getting a spear in her back, crumpling lifeless to--- "Jessa! Are you dressed yet?" My mother calls from the kitchen. I can tell she's making an extravagant dinner, or as extravagant as we can manage, for us to eat after the chaos from the reaping has died, for many wonderful smells enter my room. I answer softly, "Almost ready." I slip on the dress and sandals, and lastly clip on my precious little bracelet, my token, and enter the kitchen. Mom tries to ease my nerves. "Sweetie, you look beautiful!" Zinnia chimes in. "Wow, Jessa, you-" She is cut off by the siren, signaling for the district to gather in the town square, it's time. Suddenly all of our faces lose color, and we shuffle out the door, but not before I hustle to my room and run a brush through my hair. I look around and everyone from eight silently pads toward the square. Everyone is hugging, kissing, holding hands. When I am signed in I separate from mother and Zinnia to stand with the potential tributes, while they stand off to the side to watch. Suddenly Crestille, our district's guide, struts toward center stage. I suppress a laugh because, she looks simply ridiculous. Her body has been altered beyond repair, who knows how old she really is. I become somber again quickly, because it's already time for the names to be chosen. "Ladies first!" She says in what can only be described as a screech. She skips over to the girl's glass ball and picks the first name that touches her fingers. She walks back up to the microphone, and clearly enunciates: "Jessamine Messyla!" My eyes dart around, to which my fears are confirmed. Everyone is looking at me, that was my name. Aspen looks at me from the boys side, tears streaming down his face. He knows there's nothing he can do. And Zinnia just turned nineteen. I realize my feet have already carried me onto the stage, where, horrified, I stand. Only now do I think about how I look. I stand, shoulders hunched, hair down below my shoulders, not even styled. I would look homeless if it weren't for my beautiful dress. "Great!" Crestille beams, and heads over to the boys. She picks a slip and hurries on over. She reads,"Jackson Hilders!" I don't know who that is, and I guess it doesn't matter because Aspen screams "I volunteer!! I volunteer!" No. No. No. Why did he do this? Obviously, for me. It's bad enough I'm here, and now he is too. One of us will die. He steps up onto the stage, and Crestille tells us to shake hands. He pulls me into a warm embrace. ******************* I remains still in the small room in which we say goodbyes until my mom and Zinnia burst in. I snap, and end up cradled in their arms for almost the whole hour until we get a five minute warning. "Ok, all you need is a strategy. You're smart, you can do this, we know you can. You will. I love you." Zinnia whispers. Our time is up, but not before we all share one last hug. Mom and Zinnia are ushered out. I follow quickly behind them, but rather than in the direction of home, I am led to the train station. Where Aspen and I wait for the train that takes us to, most likely, death.