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"MOM, YOU'RE CUTTING OFF MY OXYGEN HERE." Kio Flanagan extracted himself from his mother's grip, holding her out by the elbows. At Eighteen, he had just been reaped for the twenty-sixth Hunger Games.
The hand of Ria Flanagan reached up to cup her son's cheek, teary eyes staring into his own. It was the last year he was eligible for the Reaping, one year off of freedom. The year before had been particularly terrible, the Districts voting for who to send into the Games. She feared Kio's position as an implant from District Seven.
"I'm sorry," she said, pulling away. "It's just..." Bad luck. In their house, four out of the six people who had lived there were Reaped, the other two never even eligible to be pulled. "I'll be waiting for you to come back."
"Mom-" A warning glance from his father snatched the words from his lips. He might not come back, but it wouldn't be much help to say as much. "I'll be back soon."
That produced a large grin on his mother's face, "Now, keep close to Mags, alright? Burdock will probably switch with her, mentor the girl instead. I know you are eighteen but do not drink Posca, okay? You're still a baby." He was well aware of the hypocrisy in which she spoke, but today wasn't one to argue.
He rolled his eyes fondly, "Mom, you met me when I was a toddler."
"Not the point." Ria stepped away now, turning to her husband, "Eret, help me out here?"
Eret, as he was known in Four, squinted, "Might as well try it—"
"Treech—" Both Flanagan boys' eyes widened, the real name a warning.
He cleared his throat, clapping a hand on Kio's shoulder. "Your mother is right. No drinking."
Kio nodded, glancing back at her, "No drinking. Got it. Can... can I speak to dad alone?"
Her eyes floated to her husband, who gave the slightest of nods, "Of course." He stepped aside, allowing her to place one last kiss on her son's head—admittedly he had to bend down for her— and whispered that she would see him soon.
The moment she left, Kio allowed his strong facade to drop, tears streaming down his face. In an instant, he was pulled into the strong arms of his father. "I'm sorry."
His father shook his head, "It's not your fault, this family has bad luck."
"Well," Kio gave a small laugh, "Unlike you, if I see any dust falling on me I won't inhale it."
He earned a light jab to the stomach, "Still a sensitive topic, kid."
Kio was well aware his father was joking, but he sobered up anyway. "Listen...can you promise me something?"
