I awoke with a dry throat and hazy eye sight, my head was spinning and my neck ached when I lifted it off the white pillow.

"She's awake," a relieved voice called out.

I turned to meet with a shaggy blond with green eyes, at first I couldn't tell who he was till he started to speak. "Amy, Amy, you're in hospital, you had an accident and-"

I didn't give Arthur a chance to finish as I slammed my fist into his cheek. He cursed as I leaped to my feet and grabbed on to a silver pole that held my IV bag. I lifted it up so the bottom with three sharp edges was right in front of his face. "You got three seconds to walk out of here before I decide to smash your face into the wall!"

"Now let's be civilized here," he held his hands up in surrender.

"Arthur!" Francis burst into the room with the young blond that carried the small polar bear right behind him.

"Stand back or I smash his face in!" I threaten.

The boy and Francis share a worried glance and nodded. I turned my attention back to Arthur and gesture him to stand with the others. He follows and stands next to the boy, "Amy, please-"

"How long have I been out?" I shouted. "Has my family been informed? I was hit by a car so I know I had to been out for at least two weeks."

Arthur nodded with an understanding expression, "You had a fractured leg, three broken ribs and a concussion. A normal person would have been out for two to three weeks or left in a coma. You were out for an hour."

I knitted my eyebrows together in confusion and shook my head in disbelief. "You're crazy. All of you are crazy!" Then I took a quick glance to my clothes, and I discovered that I was in a white hospital grown with nothing else underneath. "What the hell?! Where are my clothes?!"

"We sent them out to be dried cleaned," the boy whispered as he clutched the bear to his chest.

"You better hope a nurse changed me, because if I found out it was either of you, I'll blind all of you!"

"Please, Amy," Francis begged, "hear us out."

I panted uneasily, what would be the point, these people are crazy. But deep down my gut squeezed almost if it said, 'give them a chance.' I bit my lip, swallowed my pride and fear and sat down the plow, "you got three minutes."

All three breathed a sigh of relief and Arthur said, "Glad that's over with." Then he pulled out a silver dagger with a vine like design on the handle from the inside of his blazer.

My instincts kicked in and in a blink of an eye, I snatched the stand and held it in a fighting position.

Arthur held his hands up, "this isn't for you. It's for us, to prove that we are the same."

I gave a confused look but he ignored my glare and pulled down his sleeve. He then placed the dagger on his wrist and slashed it across his skin.

My eyes widen as the cut bled but in an instant faded and disappeared, didn't even leave a scar. "Self-inflicted wounds never last. Wounds from a human, either with their hands or machine will last longer but still heal." He hands the dagger to the boy, "Matthew."

The boy called Matthew set the polar bear down gently and received the dagger. He also cuts himself in the same fashion and just as Arthur's, healed in a blink of an eye.

"What are you people?" I whispered.

Francis took the dagger and made a face, "do I really have to do this? I'm not a big fan of pain."

"Don't be a pansy," Arthur hissed and Francis made a light cut and he yelped, "Ouch."

Arthur rolled his eyes and I yelled, "What are you!"

All three took quick glances with one another then Arthur cleared his throat, "We're nations, countries if you will."

"Countries?" I asked, confused.

"Yes, we believe we're spirits, taking a physical form to represent our people, our culture-"

I snorted, "Let me guess, you're England, no wait Britain! Oh now a-days you prefer be called the United Kingdom, how about you stink to one name and one name only." Then I faced Francis, "You must be France." I turned to Matthew, "I even don't know who you are?!"

"I'm Canada," he said shyly.

"Oh," I danged out the word in a long sarcastic groan, "of course! And is the polar bear the North Pole?"

"I wish," the bear said.

"And it talks."

"I ain't an 'it', I'm Kumajirou."

I quirked a brow, "How come you have a Japanese name?"

"Can we please get back to the topic at hand," Arthur asked.

"You mean the topic of you all being countries? Oh of course how could we ever brush it off like that? Oh wait, I was talking to a bear!" I panted and fixed my gaze on all three men, "You say were the same? How exactly?"

Matthew took a deep breath and said, "You're America."

I snickered, "Ok, I'll play along. I'm America, woooo. No wait! We're spirits; shouldn't we go 'boo' instead?"

"You're making fun of us aren't you," Arthur remarked.

"No shit Sherlock."

"Arthur just show her," Francis interrupted.

Arthur nodded and pulled out an old photo from his pocket. He steps toward me and lifted up the stand ready for a fight.

"It's just a photograph," he soothed as he holds it out. I snatched it out of his hand and he winced, "Please, it's fragile."

I ignored him, glanced at the picture and froze. It displayed a man in a brown military jacket with a white t-shirt, khakis and brown hiking boots. He was standing in front of a gothic styled church with a large, happy grin on his face. His dirty blond hair was brushed back, thanks to the wind. His blue eyes shined and his glasses were askew, but still he smiled without a care in the world. But what really shocked me to my core was that his face had long features like mine, the same shade of blue as my eyes and we shared the same light complexion.

"That man," Arthur continued, "Is Alfred F. Jones and he's your father."

"How-"

"We," he hesitated for a moment, "took your DNA to be tested, it was a match."

I turned back to the photo and Arthur asked, "Amy, we wish to know, when were you found?"

I have no idea why I answered but I did, "September 11, 2001."

He nodded, he didn't seem surprised, "Do you celebrate your birthday on that day?"

"No, doctors said I looked like I could have been born in early July."

"So," Francis added, "you celebrate it on the fourth then?"

I shook my head, "the first."

"So you will be eighteen in three months," Arthur said, "perfect timing seventeen to eighteen is usually the ages we introduce new nations to the world. Or at least when they look like it."

That snapped me out of my trance, "What do you mean introduce me to the world?"

"The other countries mon cher," Francis gave a kind smile.

"They would be every excited to meet you," Arthur added.

"No." I said bluntly.

A moment of silence, then Matthew asked, "What?"

"You heard me," I cried, "I. Said. No."

"But-"

"NO!" I yelled, "You had your three minutes! Now you can take this," I hold up the photo, "and all your country crazy talk and shove it up your ass!" I threw the photo into Arthur's face.

"Amy, please," Francis reached out and I blocked his hand with the bottom of the stand. "Get. Out." I threaten.

None of them moved and I snapped of the IV bag and threw it at Francis face, wires and all. The needle in my arm ripped out and warm liquid ran down my forearm, but I ignored it. The IV bag collided into his face and its liquid soaked his hair and clothes, he groaned and rubbed his eyes.

"Last chance, get out," I hissed. "Or I will throw the stand."

Matthew quickly lifts Kumajirou into his arms and pushed Arthur towards the door. "She's serious, let's go." Arthur clearly disagreed but ended up guiding Francis out the door with Matthew right behind them.

I lay on the hospital bed allowing my temper to cool. At first I stared up into the ceiling, and then switched on to my side, where I spot the nook of my elbow. Where a bloody wound should have been, but healed in a minute after I threw the IV bag into Francis's face. Quickly my thoughts replayed my behavior towards the men and guilt was beginning to pile on to my conscience. I was rude, cruel, and violent; if my mom witnessed the situation she would have slapped me in that moment. I shivered at the thought; my mom was scary when she was pissed. We may not share blood but both of us share the same heated temper. I smiled at the thought, even if I may have found out whom my biological father was, (if he was, a part of me still didn't believe it) it still didn't change the fact that I'm still my mother's daughter. I bet she's sick with worry by now. The nurses informed me that Mrs. Lope will come for me the moment my clothes arrive from the dry cleaners, and I'm sure she must have called my parents in California. I'll have to call them once I get back to the hotel room.

The door open and a dark skinned woman walked in with my clean clothes, nicely pressed and wrapped in plastic. "Here you go sweetie," she smiled as she placed them on the bed next to me. She turned to leave, but I stopped her, "Where's the bill?"

"Oh, a nice young man paid for it," the woman informed.

"A young man?"

"Could've been in his late teens, early twenties; but what really stumped me was that he carried a stuffed bear. I thought it was for you but. . ." she trailed off looking around the room for the so-called bear.

"Yeah." So Matthew paid for my dry cleaning that sure was nice of him. But his actions only added to my guilt.

"Also your hospital bill has been paid," the nurse continued.

"By who?"

"Two men both had accents. One sounded like an actor from that new James Bond movie and one was quite handsome but he was a little girly for my taste."

Arthur and Francis, crap are they trying to guilt trip me here.

"Thanks, I'll get changed now," that was my goodbye to the nurse as she walked out of the room.

Once I had charged and formally been discharged from the hospital, I was greeted by Mrs. Lope in the main lobby. The taxi ride to the hotel was filled with a lecture of how I shouldn't disappear from our tour groups and not run on wet tile floor. I almost asked 'what tile floor?' Till I realized if I mentioned the car people would ask how I was able to raise back to my feet in only an hour. Clearly Arthur thought of this and conducted entire scenario for me, along with paying off some doctors, nurses, and witnesses. Well that's my theory.

We entered the hotel and Mrs. Lope glared at me, "you will not leave my side for the rest of the trip, do you understand me?"

"Yes ma'am," I answered in monotone.

"You will also move your things into my room and you will be spending your free day with me, is that clear."

"Yes ma'am."

We entered the elevator and she continued, "Also your parents are quite worried, I suggest calling them."

I nodded, "Yes, ma'am."

When the elevator hit our floor, I walked quickly to my shared room with Ella, Jamie, and Daniela. All three jump to their feet the moment I stepped in.

"Amy!" Jamie smiled as she tackled me into a hug. She may be a small, thin Asian girl, but damn she had a grip.

"Are you okay?" Ella asked.

"I'm fine," I answered.

"You gave us all a heart attack. At first we thought you ran off, but instead you get hurt?" Daniela said with crossed arms.

"I didn't mean to," I gave a carefree smile, "I tripped."

"What kind of trip lands you in hospital?"

An SUV kind.

I dropped my duffle bag at the foot of my new bed, next to Mrs. Lope. She sat on her bed in a long night grown with a romance novel in her lap. I pulled out my Galaxy Infinity, which was the size of my palm and decked out in a cool graphic design of a hawk and feathers case. I take my phone to the bathroom and said, "Call Mom."

The phone stirred to life, pressed on Mom's number and began to ring. She answered after the first ring, oh god she was waiting by the phone.

"Oh Amy! My little girl, are you okay?"

I nodded, "Yeah, I'm fine."

She sighed and I could hear the strain in her voice. "When Mrs. Lope called, saying you tripped and was sent to the hospital I was so worried. I tried calling you but then I remembered you kids aren't allowed to have your phones during field trips."

"Yeah, I know, but I'm okay now."

"Why did you leave the group in the first place young lady," Mom's voice was edged in harshness.

There's her anger, good thing I'm across the country. "I needed to pee."

"Then why did you go by yourself?"

"I wasn't thinking."

"You never do!"

I sighed and she followed suite, both of us counting to ten.

"Sweetie," her voice was soft, "I was just worried; mothers are always like this when it comes to her children."

That brought a smile to my face, "I know and I'm sorry for making you worry."

"Just please, mind your teachers and come home safely."

"I will, and Mom?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

"I love you too."

We ended the call and I stared into her photo icon I use for her and Dad. Their icons were the same one that I took with the camera phone. My dad had his arm draped around Mom's shoulders and both were smiling happily into the camera. Dad had his long raven hair tied in a braid down his back, his eyes were surrounded with crows' feet but he continued to smile as if he was still a young man. He had dark eyes and copper skin with a silver charm shaped like wolf hanging around his neck. My mom's skin was a lighter shade of brown, her dark brown hair was tied half way in the back and she had her head placed on the crook of Dad's neck.

My dad was Native American mixed with Cherokee, Navajo, Hupa, and Miwok; while my mom was Spanish, Mexican, and Native Hawaiian. People sure had a field day when they discovered they adopted a white girl. It wasn't hurtful more like surprised; especially when Mom would take me to the store as a kid and some tourists would ask if she was my nanny. Once my dad was suspected as my kidnapper when someone (another tourist no doubt) spotted me getting into his car and driving off towards the forest. Dad's a park ranger and would take me out on hikes whenever I felt up to it.

I shook my head, yup I was definitely the odd man out, but it didn't stop them from loving me.

Without thinking, my subconscious forced me back to the picture of Alfred F. Jones, my biological father supposedly. The image of him grinning disturbed me at some level; it was so close to mine. I didn't give a chance to second guess myself as I opened to a fresh Google tab and asked, "Search Alfred F. Jones."

Hundreds of links appeared on the screen and several people popped in through Instagram and twitter but not one person resembled the man from Arthur's photo. I tried multiple search engines and asked help through all my social sites. Hell, I even went back to my facebook account I had when I was twelve.

But I found nothing.

He wasn't on any of the social network sites and he didn't pop up in any high school year books. There were plenty of birth certificates but so many were dated back nearly fifty years I didn't bother checking. Plenty of death certificates, but they dated back to almost a hundred years.