His Mom
Here I go, being dared to write a Percy Jackson fic mere days after I've devoured the entire series. I hope this doesn't make me an outcast in this fandom, for you all seem to be very friendly people. But I could be wrong. Anyways.
It seems the only way I can get anything done is for my rival and best friend Tassel630 (you should look her up) to dare me. So. I've been instructed to write a fic about Luke Castellan or his mother. Can do, Tassel. Can do.
Disclaimer: I really, REALLY wish I were Rick Riordan. Mostly for his name. It's cool.
Luke had never known May a different way.
She was always like this. Distracted, out of it… almost otherworldly in her stupefaction. He thought that was how it was supposed to be.
And then he went to school. Other mommies came in to drop their kids off in their cars, protected from the rain, while Luke had to walk. It was only a block down the road, and his mother didn't really notice. But these mommies hugged their children as they said good-bye, smiled at them, handed them two dollars for lunch.
Luke didn't know you could buy lunch.
No one would trade with him, either. No one wanted a burnt cookie.
And then there were the daddies. Oh, the daddies! Luke didn't know having a father was normal. He didn't have a daddy, he'd always tell everyone. But you must have a daddy, they insisted. Even his teacher, Mrs. Warner, would tell Luke he had a daddy somewhere. But then he went home, and asked his mommy, and she began to cry.
Why would she always cry at the mention of his daddy?
Luke had so many questions. And they would never be answered. At least, not until he was fourteen. And that was years from now.
Now, he had to eat his rock of a cookie at lunch, and had to tell his mommy every day that he went to school every morning when he would walk in the door and she would clutch his face to her chest and cry that she'd lost him and didn't know where he went, and had to get in trouble when he had a parent-teacher conference but no one showed up to claim his time. Now he had to sit in the corner of his room almost three times a month, his mother banging on the door with a fist, clawing at it with her nails, screeching about his "fate".
And he had eight more years of it to go.
If you haven't seen the movie yet, DON'T. It will destroy your SOUL. Absolutely ghastly.
Hope you dealt with the crazy all right. I have that effect on most people.