As I said on Aftermath (which I wrote first but is chronologically after this) and copy-pasted directly from it: I took the Mellark boys names from Greek, I spelled them in a way that made them more butchered phoenetic (based on the way Google translate pronounces) the way Peeta is as you'll see in this. With apologies to actual Greek people, but it was something that struck me about Peeta/Pita, the other day when I was thinking about things.
Greek: πίτα, ψωμί, ζύμη, literal: pita, pso̱mí , zými̱ , english: pie, bread, dough.
As for Guwar and Jill (whose names first showed up in this work) those just sort of arrived while I was writing this piece and I had no real thought behind their origin they just happened.
I'm pacing the wood paneled room avoiding the strange stuffed furniture when the door opens and my parents are ushered in. Dad is pale and sweaty. Mom is much the same as always only more agitated.
"Peeta-" Dad starts.
"Twelve might stand a chance this year-" Mom says.
She can't mean me—all the things she's ever said to me and my brothers.
"She might be one of Her children but she has wiles. She could actually do it," her words are coming out in a strange rush, "You could make yourself useful if you don't die in some embarrassing way first."
"Jill!" I can't remember how long it's been since Dad's stood up to her. It stops the horror of her words for a moment but then, "You're never going to see the boy again and that's what you say to him," he realizes what he's said then and the anguish on his face. He hugs me, tightly, "I'm sorry, Peeta."
"It's okay," I hear myself saying. I know how right he is.
Mom hugs me too, "Remember. Be helpful," she says, patting me on the back haphazardly.
Dad hugs me again before they're dragged out, "Stay strong," he says, "Stay true."
Then it's my brothers.
"What's going on?" Jeemi asks, "I swear Dad's actually scolding Mom."
"Not the time!" Shohmi counters, "So not!" He hugs me. So many hugs today, apparently I should have been reaped years ago. He ruffles my hair, "We've dodged Mom's rolling pings for years maybe it won't be so bad."
"Yeah," Jeemi chuckles, nervously, "I'm sure you can bake your way out," his tone is becoming more and more sarcastic, "build some sort of bread mountain."
Shohmi punches him in the arm. There's some sort of thing between them in scowls and glares, "You'll be fine," he assures me.
"Don't lie," I tell him. Liars get extra names in the tessarae. I'm tempted to repeat Mom's threat but Shohmi aged out of the tessarae years ago and it's bad taste right now, "You know the types that come in from 1 and 2. I'll be lucky to last a day."
"You can wrestle," Jeemi said, "You wrestled me down."
"Two out of five times."
Shohmi grabs my shoulders and shakes me, "Don't give up before you even get there. I don't give a shit what stupid evil might have come out of Mom's mouth."
I can feel tears welling up, "Sho, stop..."
"Time!" a voice from outside calls. I'm not expecting anyone else to come in given that's my whole family but then Guwar and Delly are shown in. Delly runs over and hugs me tightly.
"You jinxed yourself," Guwar says.
"Shut up," I tell him and then, "but then Jeemi was talking about bread mountains so perhaps baking can save the day."
"You never know," Delly says, brightly, "remember that cake you made? The one the mayor wanted to look like a forest glade. Did you see it, Guwar? It was like a sculpture, pond with fish, trees, even little people having a picnic and fishing in the grass. Mom said there was a year when she was a kid where someone won by using camouflage. I don't think they even had to kill anyone."
"There you go see," Guwar slaps me on the back, "You can bake your way to the finish."
"Wouldn't that be ice my way to the finish?" I feel a little bit better despite myself.
"Ooh," Delly continues, "Caesar will eat up things like that. You'll get on great. That'll help with sponsors."
Sponsors and camouflage, sounds like great odds.
"Your face is falling again," Delly scolds as the guards call from outside that their time is up too. She gives me a quick hug and kisses me on the cheek. Guwar's hug is more a pat on the back.
"Bad luck, mate," he says, "Things won't be the same if you don't make it."
"I was about to punch you," I tell him.
They're gone.
Do they really think I have a chance? Or have they written me off like my parents?You're never going to see the boy again and that's what you say to him? I know from the look on his face he didn't mean to say it; but he's right and I know it too.
I don't stand a chance; but she does.