[District Eleven] Tessa Appleby

DISTRICT ELEVEN

Tessa Appleby|Female|Twelve

I'm 3 steps from the edge
Don't push me over it
Don't you know don't you know

Small hands fumbled nervously as a somewhat terrified girl, who couldn’t be more than twelve prepared for her first reaping. Her mother, despite reassuring words, couldn’t seem to wipe the look of terror from Tessa’s normally innocent face. Big, brown doe-eyes peered fearfully at the world around her, but no tears surfaced. Instead, an insurmountable dread began to build in her tiny gullet. As her mother moved and combed the thin, almost acidic blonde-looking hair, she began to ramble about how her daughter should keep ALL of her hair tucked safely inside a straw hat to avoid sun damage. Needless to say, Tessa’s thoughts were in other places.

Still, her mother continued to ramble, sifting through Tessa’s closet, finding the article of clothing she had specially bought for her daughter, rather than the faded hand-me-downs she normally got. The brightly colored dress brought a new dread, not due to the garment, but of what would happen on the way to the Hunger Games. So many of the residents looked nothing like they normally did once they’d been dressed up and what the capital called “pampered”. With a rather loud sigh, Tessa’s mother grabbed at her daughter’s button nose playfully, reassuring her that everything would be okay.

As she offered her daughter a damp rag to wash her face with, she set to putting Tessa’s hair up into a special bun; one with a braid tied carefully around it. As Tessa scrubbed, the blonde heroine wished that the freckles that began to dot her face would scrub away with the dirt that she’d picked up in her time at the orchards. She could see it now – she’d be the laughing stock in the Capital because of them. But she was more scared of what they’d think about her frame.

As she changed out of the nightgown and into her reaping outfit, Tessa winced, solemnly wishing puberty would just leave her alone. Small curves found their way onto her body along with the increasing amount of fat that seemed bent on enlarging her chest. Instead of her normal beanpole shape, Tessa was, slowly but surely, growing into a womanly figure. She hoped this wouldn’t decrease her turnout from the orchards – she was one of the fastest when it came to running and climbing trees and the lithe muscle on her body showed it.

As her mother pushed her out the door, Tessa whimpered in protest, quietly telling herself that someone would tribute for her in the event that she was nominated. That is to say, she was generally well-liked by the populace, right? Sure, they didn’t give her things and they’d automatically pick themselves over her (uh-oh), but Tessa was in fact, likable. That could be due to her eagerness to please or perhaps the friendly demeanor she always seemed to possess, or maybe even the quick wit that she wasn’t afraid to use. It could be her kindheartedness, her respect towards elders, or even her climbing skills.

As they continued towards the town square for the Reaping, Tessa took small steps in hoping of prolonging the fact that she’d be treated like livestock lined up to be slaughtered. Her skittishness was possibly due to the Peacekeeper’s present; something about their cocky smirks just made her nervous – even more so when she saw the guns in their hands. But it didn’t just make her nervous. It made her angry, angry that the capital would allow such monsters quarter in District Eleven, furious, furious that they were treated like prisoners, and hate; hatred flowed freely at the fact that some people were dying from starvation, despite District Eleven being an agricultural district.

Still, the twist of emotions didn’t affect Tessa that much – she was comfortable on any end of the emotional scale, despite preferring to be lighthearted. And she was (lighthearted, that is), most of the time, but the Reaping triggered a survival instinct, one deep down inside her. Despite never having killed anything in her life, Tessa remained confident in the fact that if it came down to her and someone else, she would be the one to strike first. However, thinking and doing were two completely different things…

But now wasn’t the time to appear scared. She didn’t have any tesserae and she was only twelve. The odds of her being picked were slim to none and she found comfort in that. But what about her friends? Many had lost older siblings, with a few having lost a younger sibling. Remorse stirred deep inside her – she had been blessed by not having a family member selected.

But now wasn’t the time to churn negative feelings; she had to be that polite, good girl that her neighbors thought she was, especially now that she was being watched.

When you’re dying, people say that your life flashes in front of you. Tessa experienced that, just standing there, waiting for the Reaping. She missed the serene feeling of the orchard and the calming sensation her small, personal garden brought on, but the few good memories that she had was enough to keep her calm. She took a deep breath as her mother disappeared in the crowd, off to find Tessa’s father no doubt, who had been working in the orchard earlier.

As an only child, Tessa had been genuinely pampered, as much as a low-income family could, that is. Her family lived in what could only be described as a series of shacks stacked on top and around one another. The first room was the largest; it served as the dining area, kitchen, and living room. The next largest room was stacked on top of the first shack, with it being the master bedroom. The third was significantly smaller than the rest and situated towards the back, with it being the bathroom. Tessa’s room was smaller still and had been turned sideways as an extension of the living room.

Between Tessa’s room and the bathroom was an empty space. There, the family grew wild vegetables and medicinal herbs that the Peacekeepers deemed as “weeds” and have removed from the orchard. Tessa’s father taught her the difference between the “bad” ones and the “good” ones, so anytime she spots one from atop an apple or peach tree, she’s quick to harvest her way in its direction.

Needless to say, Tessa rarely ate meat, barely able to remember the last time she did. It was around age five, right after Topaz Ross won. Tessa was always sad when she saw someone from District Eleven felled, but for some reason, money poured in that year and they were able to add onto their house, even buying a few figs in hopes of growing a tree (which has recently begun to sprout figs of its own). Tessa assumed that her father had made a bet early on and won big – big enough to keep his family well fed for a year before it was blown during the Fifty-Seventh Hunger Games, with Heron Kimberling taking it rather than Zuka, a girl from their home district.

As she grew up, Tessa recalled watching the Hunger Games recaps, despite a tribute from her district never winning, but she very rarely actually got to see the events unfold live due to her working all the time. She had begun climbing the orchard’s trees by the age of six and seemed to have a natural talent for it. Of course, her parents were thrilled, especially since their daughter was now bringing in an income when she wasn’t in school.

School wasn’t that hard for her, especially as she got older. The girl naturally had an inquisitive nature, so as she learned new things, she swiftly stuck them into her brain, ready to use when needed. Sure, things like basic arithmetic would be wasted on her later in life, but Tessa never forgot what plants she was supposed to pick for the garden and the history lessons had begun to make her understand the reasoning behind the Hunger Games, as stupid as they might be.

But of course, the rather uneventful life of Tessa had begun to pick up around age ten. She witnessed a Peacekeeper cut down one of her friend’s mother for stealing a few apples from the orchard; she witnessed her friends break down when they were selected for the Reaping. The traumatic nature of the Games made the small, doe-eyed girl realize something.

She was not ready for the Reaping.