Soldier ▶ L. Martin

chapter 19

L U C A  M C C A L L

"Hey, how's training with Deaton?" Scott asked me. "It's good. I learned who my foreís are." I deliberately used the word in Greek to mess with Scott and Stiles.

Stiles gave a gobsmacked look at me. "An a-huh? English, Luca! Please!" He complained. "It means carrier, also known as the ones who carry my humanity." I clarified.

I saw that their eyebrows raised a little in amusement. "Carriers? Who're your carriers?" Scott asked. I thought back to my lesson with the vet—slash—druid emissary that day.

"C'mon, Luca. Concentrate." Deaton ordered. "I'm trying!" I argued.

"Not hard enough. Sometime in the future, your anger will get the best of you. I know you can do this, and it's the only way to help you control your powers." He informed. "Fine! Okay!" I winced in pain.

I tried clawing at the hard, concrete surface, but it was no use. I began focusing my breaths—inhaling and exhaling more slowly.

It was a given, being one of the protectors of the supernatural and mortal world came with a price—a difficult and painful price that is. Deaton told me that I would have to see him at least once a week because he was the only one in Beacon Hills that could train me and I knew I needed it.

"Focus on my voice..." He urged. His voice seemed so distant and faded, but I managed to hear him out with all the sharp pains I was feeling in my body. "Think of a happy moment in your life. Think of somebody that makes you happy and true to yourself." He instructed.

My mind went to the first flashback when I was eleven years old. The recurring memory was when I fractured my ankle in one of my basketball practices.

I stood there in the backyard with my crutches on either side of me. I stared at the net in front me with sadness written on my face. I was so oblivious towards my surroundings that I didn't realize my dad was behind me. "Well, staring certainly won't heal your ankle." His voice made me jump in surprise. 

"Hey, dad." I muttered, turning my attention back the the hoop.

"What's up, Lu-Boy." I remembered that nickname. It was a common name my dad would call me to cheer me up, or embarrass the heck out of me. "It's over. I can't play basketball." I grunted.

"Woah, there! It's not over yet. You just injured yourself. No worries! Once you get better, you'll be off to the courts in no time!" He reasoned. "But, dad! Basketball's my life! I love playing every second of it, and-and now? I have to wait for—who knows how long, and watch the other guys play while I'm stuck in this stupid thing." I frowned, already hating the feeling it gave my armpits.

Basketball was something that took my mind off of the bullies in my school. I thought of my team as my second family because they didn't treat me differently and had my back. They were the ones I can really consider calling my friends, besides Lena. If only they went to the same school as me. Life would've been a little bit better.

"You know the rules now, Lu. Your mother specifically said no complaining or any negativity in this household. I mean have you seen the sign she made in the living room?" He reminded. "It's hard to not notice. She put it up in big, bold letters." I let out a small smile.

"How about this..." he started, guiding me to the stairs of the porch, "keep practicing. I know you can't exactly move your feet around, but you have your hands. Do some ball handling and dribbling exercises. You can even shoot some hoops!" He suggested.

I huffed in annoyance—at myself, of course. To think that it was the end of the world? Really, Luca! Dad was right. I can do other things with basketball that doesn't require running. "You're right. Sorry for overreacting." I grumbled in shame. He threw his arm around me, patting my back and kissing my head. "It's not your fault for having a passion for basketball. I believe it's great that you love and enjoy what you're doing...just don't beat yourself up, alright?" He said.

I nodded and leaned my head against his shoulder as we sat there enjoying the cool evening.

"There you go! You're almost in full control. Keep concentrating." I heard Deaton assure.

"Luca, can you come here a sec?" My mom called out from her room.

I was just about done, packing up for training camp in Utah and zipped up my duffel bag. Standing up from a crouching position, I made my way over to the master bedroom. "Yeah?" I said. "Sit here." She instructed patting over to the desk chair.

"Is everything okay?" I asked in concern. "Luca, I want you to be honest with me." She told me.

I hesitantly sat on the cushioned seat and looked up at her. "Mom, what's the matter? You're scaring me." I inquired. "Are you being bullied? Is anybody in school being mean to you?" She questioned.

My face went pale as I felt the cold sweat start to form on my forehead. "W-Who told you this?" I asked. "I'm your mother. I would know when there's something going off about my child. You want to go to this training camp? You hide secrets from your father and me? After school, you would come home with a sad look on your face? And I know that it's not your classes because you are the smartest kid I know." She explained.

"Okay, okay! It's true. Some guys bully me because they say I'm too ugly and I'm a nerd because I like school." I admitted in defeat. Her hands rested on mine. "Is this why you want to go to that camp? Because of the bullies?" She asked.

"Maybe." I mumbled. "Oh, baby. Why didn't you tell us? Does anybody else know about it?" She wondered.

"Only Scott and Lena, but I told them not to tell anyone." I answered.

My mom caressed my cheek with her delicate-like hands. "Luca, if there's anything bothering, or you don't feel comfortable or safe, you need to tell your dad and I. Have they hit you or touched you in any way?" She made me look at her in the eyes. "A couple." I said.

"Honey, bullying is a serious issue that needs to be dealt with. You can't run away and pretend that it's okay for them to harass you. It encourages them to see how long it would take to break you and they'll see it as a game." She informed. "I know, and I should've told you guys right away." I said.

"Oh, and about what those guys are telling you? They're wrong. People aren't born, or made to be perfect. We were born to stand out, honey. You look a little weird? No. What matters is what's in here." She pointed to where my beating heart was. "Appearances are nothing compared to personality, and you, Luca, have the most beautiful personality. And if others can't see that, then they're not good enough for you." She affirmed.

"Now, do you still want to go to Utah?" She asked me, changing the subject.

I nodded my head. "I want to. It will keep me occupied during the summer and I want to know how to defend myself, mom." I confirmed with determination. "If that's what makes you feel safe in the future, then I guess I'm gonna have to let you." She said, combing my hair to the side with her fingers.

"Gosh, you grow up so fast! You better get your butt back home real soon once this is over." She cooed. "Well you don't call me Luca Nestor for nothing. You know that Nestor means the one that returns as well as he who remembers, so I'll remember my amazing, supporting parents and always come back to them." I grinned.

"Have I ever told you I love you?" She grinned. "Only a million times! But...I love you too, momma." I replied back with a smile.

"Your parents are your carriers." Scott tried not to smile too hard in admiration. "Yeah, they are." I said.

"See? Even though they're gone, they will always be there for you." He told me. "Sure are." I chuckled, looking up at the sky.