Find the eagle?

What the hell does that mean?!

The old man sure likes to give vague clues, but still, do I look like Nancy Drew to him?!

It was Wednesday morning and I was sitting in my homeroom class, still pondering over the 'find the eagle' clue; which hasn't gotten very far. I mean, does he want me to find a real eagle or is the eagle something else. Like a statue, or a painting or a photo; or is the eagle some kind of code word for something? Could it be for another person or an object?

Or it could be that the old man is messing with me and there is no eagle what's so ever.

Or I could have fallen off Midnight that night, cracked my head open and had one seriously over imaginative dream.

Or the most reasonable explanation: I'm losing my mind.

"Amy," Mrs. Lope's voice snapped me out of my train of thought.

"Yes," I haven't had a decent sleep in three days and I might have been a little jumpy.

She gestured to the white screen, which had a power point about Ottoman Turks and Egypt. "Answer the question," she proclaimed.

There wasn't much on the screen, mostly a photo of a pyramid and Turkish guy dressed in colorful robes. "Uh, could you repeat the question," I asked.

Mrs. Lope sighed, "How did the Egyptians keep their language and habits during the Turkish ruling?"

"Uh," my mind instantly brought up Gupta and Sadiq and I answered without thinking. "Gupta and Sadiq seem to get along, in some ways I guess." I shrugged my shoulders. "Maybe they talked it over, worked out a deal, I'll ask about it next time."

Mrs. Lope and the rest of class simply stared at me with confused looks on their faces. "Who are you talking about it?" Mrs. Lope said as she lifted a brow at me.

Then it hit me, I was talking about Turkey and Egypt as if they were real people. Which they were, but yet not; no they're people but not people people, they're nations. But they have human emotions, somewhat, I think. Does that make them human? Or do the emotions of their people make them have human emotions? "Shut up, you're over thinking it."

My classmate's eyes widened and Mrs. Lope gave me a worried look.

I wondered why they were looking at me like that, till I realized that I said the last statement out loud. "Crap. I mean, uh I didn't mean you Mrs. Lope. I just-I have a lot on my mind and I wasn't thinking. Well that's not true, I was thinking a lot but it just came out as rabble and-"

"Amy," Mrs. Lope snapped.

"Yes," I said.

"See me after class," she proclaimed and turned back to the screen to continue her lecture.

Once class ended, the students walked out of the room and Mrs. Lope closed the door behind them. She gestured for me to come to her desk and I grabbed my backpack and walked over to seat in a spare chair across from her.

"Look Mrs. Lope, I didn't mean what I said," I quickly said.

She lifted her palm up as her eyes soften, "I know. Amy is everything okay? You haven't been acting like yourself. You seem paranoid, stressed and well, frighten."

My muscles tensed, am I that easy to read.

"I don't mean to be nosy but I've heard that you have recently found your half-brothers and I can't help but think that was when you began to act a bit off." She reached for my hand, which was curled up in a fist and shaking. Her plump, smooth hand covered my knuckles and gave a squeeze to stop the trembling. "I'm here if you want to talk."

"Thanks, but I'm fine," I pulled my hand away and rose to my feet, "I need to go." I slipped my backpack over my shoulder and walked out of the door before she could say another word.

Ella and Heisuke were waiting for me in the hall. "So, are you in trouble?" Ella asked.

"Ella-chan," Heisuke sighed, "does the word 'sensitive' mean anything to you?"

"I was just asking," she proclaimed.

"Well I'm not," I snapped, "and also this, isn't any of your business. So stay out of it."

Both of their eyes widened towards my outburst and I walked away without another word. Deciding that it was best to avoid any more slip ups like in first period, I hid myself in the girls' restroom on the second floor of the arts building. Not many girls use the restroom for it was in a far corner and not anywhere close to the classrooms. Besides most dance rooms had locker rooms, so they would use those instead.

When my free period came I found an empty dance room and changed quickly into my work out clothes. Even though I had no sleep, I was somehow filled with energy. I plugged my IPod in the speakers and hit shuffle, Lorde's smooth voice vibrated out with her song 'Glory and Gore'. I shook out my limbs and tried to clear out my head. I flowed with the music and busted out some ballet moves. Stretching my legs up and taping my feet in bourree and spinning myself in perfect pirouettes to the beat. I also did quick relevés and bent my legs in strong plies so I could lift myself in high leaps. Before I knew it, I was losing myself in the music and completely forgetting my issues.

Then Taylor Swift's song 'Eyes Open' played out. The song was pulling at my heart strings as images of Arthur, Francis and Matthew invaded my mind. I shook it off and focused on my bourree, but my mind continued to show them interacting with my family and friends. As if maybe, just maybe they cared, but I knew they didn't.

I moved faster, forcing the memories away but they were replaced by Peter and Raivis. Peter waving my files in my face and acting like my life was nothing more than entertainment for his boredom. Then Feliciano, Ludwig and Kiku came to mind; to the event of Feliciano swinging me around on the dance floor and later kissing me as a prize. But, isn't that what I am to them? A prize, something new to possess or in some cases break; Ludwig and Kiku would never admit it, but I saw them watching me as I danced with Matthew.

All of them were watching.

I shook the thought away and once again it was replaced with another nation. Vash's harsh comments about Alfred repeated in my head, "You are just like your father, refusing to take blame for anything he did." Then Erika and Victoria's smiling voices came to mind, but to me their smiles seemed smug and mean.

I tripped and fell to my knees; I gritted my teeth and rose to my feet into a fast frappes.

I tried to push away the thoughts, to bottle them away for another day, but they would not leave me be. They only got worse when my nightmares decided to fuse with my memories. First with Alfred, as his face switched from the caring expression he had as he held me in the fire vision to the pale bloody face from my dream. His words also repeated, "I'm sorry."

I closed my eyes and tried to do a pirouette, but the memory of Ivan's hands on my hips and his lips on mine stirred fear in the pit of my stomach and I fell to the floor again. The images quickly shifted to Gupta, Heracles and Sadiq; all three wore smiles, actually looking like caring human beings. In a ripple, their faces switched to blank expressions, being almost robotic. They took orders from Ivan without a shred of hesitation. Then gun shots resounded along with the screams of the people I cared about. The image caused my head to pound and my eyes to sting with threatening tears.

I bit the inside of cheek, trying in failure to stop the whirlwind of emotions and memories. But my mind continued, turning its attention on Toris. From the brief moments I shared with him, to the nightmare where he set my house on fire. His color changing eyes carrying more pain than anyone else can see.

But in truth, all of the nations carry some sort of pain and still do; scars that may never fade no matter how many years pass.

Well I end up like them someday?

Shutting myself away?

Having no one to share my life with?

I shifted myself to my bottom, pulled my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around myself. I pictured my life without my parents, my siblings, my niece and nephews, my cousins and my friends.

They will age and one day they'll be gone.

Then the song chose that moment to become louder, as if mocking me with its lyrics:

Everybody's waiting for you to breakdown

Everybody's watching to see the fallout

Even when you're sleeping, sleeping

Keep your ey-eyes open

The last sentence repeated four more times, till the song came to its end.

As the song ended, my vision blurred with tears and streaked down my cheeks. I didn't notice that my shoulders were shaking till a rough coarse hand placed itself on one of them and squeezed it affectionately. I looked up to find Dimitri standing over me, even though this was his time to practice gymnastics. He was still wearing his uniform and his hair hasn't yet been tousled from doing flips in the air. He gently bent his knees so he could be at eye level with me. He gave me a soft, caring gaze as his hand traveled from my shoulder to my cheek. He wiped my tears away with his thumb and asked in a gentle tone, "What's wrong?"

I blinked and looked away, "nothing."

He didn't let go. "Does it have something to do with that man? The man that came to wedding?"

"I don't want to talk about it." I said harshly.

"So it's not 'nothing', something did happen."

"Nothing happened," I snapped.

He was silent but I heard him shift as he sat himself beside me. He continued to be quiet as he combed his fingers through the ends of my hair. The tips of his fingers brushed against the back of my neck, sending shivers down my spine.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Waiting," he said as he continued to play with my hair.

"For what," I asked, but deep down I had an idea of what his answer might be.

"For you to confide in me, it may not be today, or tomorrow, but when you are ready I will be here for you." His hand found my cheek again and I leaned into his palm, craving for an anchor. My legs stretched out as Dimitri moved closer. His face was mere inches from mine. He leaned forward, our noses brushed and our lips were only centimeters away from collision.

Then the bell ringed.

We jumped apart in surprise and I glanced at the clock, it was time for lunch. That was when I noticed I was holding my breath and I could hear the pounding of my heart in my ears. I glanced at Dimitri and the realization of what we were about to do slapped me with a heated blush and raising heartbeat. I stumbled to my feet; "I-I-I," nothing came out but a stutter as I grabbed my IPod from the speakers.

He stood up, "Amy-"

"I gotta, uh, bathroom!" I cried out awkwardly and ran to the girls' locker room. I slammed the door behind me and dropped my back against the door. "Oh god, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. I do not need this, not now."

"Uh, you okay there? You look like your about to have a psychotic break."

I jumped at the sound of a new voice and found a light brown skinned girl sitting on a wooden bench. Her legs were crossed and she was twirling her thick dark curls around her finger. She wore a Nightingale uniform, but she had no tie and her white blouse was unbuttoned to reveal cleavage.

"I'm fine." I said.

"You should be," she grinned, "You were totally just getting it on with that dreamy Russian. But that damn bell just had to go and ruined it."

"You were watching?!"

She shrugged, "I had nothing else better to do. Now give me some dirt, are you two an item now?"

"W-what? No," my face heated in a deep blush, "there's nothing going on with us!"

"Oh please honey, denial isn't just a river in Egypt. I saw your auras clicking and auras don't lie."

"You can see-who are you?!" I demanded.

"Oh come on now, you don't remember me? I know it's been a couple of years but," then she snapped her fingers. "Oh this might help."

In a blink of an eye, a golden shimmer surrounded her. Her body shrank; her clothes were replaced with a light green simple dress. Her eyes glowed emerald and her ears grew out and pointed. Her hair flowed past her bear knees and glittery green butterfly wings spouted from her back. Her wings fluttered as she flew to stand in front of my face, she was now five inches tall. "Remember me now?"

I screamed and ran to lock myself in the bathroom stall, only to find her sitting on the wall separating my stall from the other.

"You know, a normal person would scream at the sight of a monster or a serial killer. But I forget you're not entirely normal," she proclaimed.

"What are you?!"

"Oh come on, can't you tell? The wings, the ears, my size; doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure this out."

"You're a fairy?"

"Yes, for now at least." she said.

"But how? I-I-I"

"I believe your grandfather explained this to you," she said in a sing-along voice.

My eyes widen, "You're a spirit."

"Ding! Ding! Ding! You've won the jackpot!"

I groaned, "What do you want?"

She pouted, "Is that anyway to treat an old friend?"

"I don't know you."

"Think about it Amy. All those tea parties we had, our adventures in the woods, and all the times we played Neverland, where you were always trying to rescue me from Captain Hook."

"I haven't played Neverland since I was five, when I had my imaginary friend-" I stopped and stared at the fairy, "Nina?"

"It's little me, back from Paris," she said in a French accent, which was always what she said when she returned to me as a kid.

"But you weren't real, I mean clearly you are, but," I sighed and sat myself on the toilet. "Are all spirits imaginary friends now?"

Nina giggled, "That's only one of the perks. You see children are open to wonder and have more faith in us than older humans, so that's why they can see us. Why do you think children always ask for others to check under the bed or the closet for monsters? Some spirits like to scare them but most of us are nicer and like to be their friends."

"Why am I seeing you now?"

"I'm allowing you to see me, duh."

I rubbed my temples trying to massage away the headache that was forming. "Nina, don't take this the wrong way, but why are you here?"

"Well silly, I'm here to help you. That message that you got wasn't nearly enough, so I'm here to give you a clue."

"A specific clue," I smiled hopefully.

She shook her head and became grim, "No, I'm already in great danger with just talking to you. If she found out I was helping you, she would have my soul."

"Who's she?"

"I said too much, now listen, I can only say this once:

"Look behind the shelf of knowledge

"There you'll find a secret storage

"Beyond that door; a past awaits

"Answers will then be in your wake"

Then she disappeared in a poof of green fairy dust (I'm serious, she used fairy dust).

"That can't be it!" I ran out of the stall and began calling out Nina's name. When she didn't answer I threw up my hands in frustration. "A poem? Seriously? The last line didn't even rhyme."

Then I spotted a note on the bench, in the same spot where Nina was sitting. I snatched it and read:

It didn't have to.

Good luck!

Kisses~ Nina

I was so annoyed that I was about to tear up the note till I realized the paper became thicker, like a photograph. I turned it over to find a picture of me and Grandpa. I was five or six at the time, with my long wavy hair falling past my lower back. I was in my favorite blue summer dress and I was sitting in Grandpa's lap. He was wearing his usual khakis and clean white dress shirt. His graying hair was tied back and he didn't have as many wrinkles. We were in his office at Spiritual Path and I couldn't help but notice that a small brown and green humanoid figure with butterfly wings was sitting on the shelf behind us.

I smiled, "Thanks Nina." I grabbed my backpack and sprinted out the door.

Nina watched from a dark corner of the locker room. She smiled as Amy proclaimed her thanks and ran out of the room. "Stay strong Amy," she said lovingly and prepared to open the vile from this world to the Spirit World, till she sensed an odd presence. Cold shivers passed through her body and warning bells ringed in her head. She tries to open the vile but she was a second too late from making a clean escape.

A vapor of darkness formed itself into a thick rope and wrapped itself around the small fairy. Nina cried out and tried to change shape but the vapor was draining her of her energy. She struggled and cried out for help but no one came.

"You're been a naughty spirit Nina, you must be punished for your betrayal."

Nina grew pale to the sound of her voice.

"No! Please, don't send me there!" she begged.

But she was given no mercy as the vapor pulled her into the darkness.

Dimitri was still in the dance room when I reentered. He wore a worried expression and I shifted from foot to foot under his gaze. Silence filled the room as our almost kiss replayed in my head. That's when I came to the decision that our almost kiss had to stay almost. That whole situation was just a moment of weakness and I can't drag him into this mess I called a life. I also can't lead him on; it wouldn't be fair to him. I beard a grin, "I gotta go Dimitri, but I'll text ya later buddy. Pal. Great oh friend of mine," I lightly punched him in the arm and walked out of the room.

Yeah, that wasn't awkward at all.

But there were more important problems I needed to deal with first. I sprinted into a full run, dashing through the halls and out the main building door. I ran to my jeep and started the engine. I pulled out of the parking lot and sped out into the main street. I slammed my foot on the gas pedal and weaved between cars and drifted around corners. I even had some close calls with some red lights; I'm surprised that a cop hasn't pulled me over yet.

I skidded to a stop in front the shop, cut off the engine and jumped out of the driver seat. Thankfully, the shop was closed for Melissa was at home with the baby. I had a spare key and I knew the security pass codes. I let myself in and kept the sign on 'close'. I can't have anyone distracting me from my search. I strut to the office in the back and headed straight to the book shelves around the room; trying to pull them out to look behind them.

Only problem with that was the shelves were built into the walls.

"Shit!" I cursed. "What the hell do I do now?" I took in a deep breath and repeated the first part of the poem: "'Look behind the shelf of knowledge. There you'll find a secret storage.'" I sighed and stared at the leather bound books, they were in various sizes and colors with pages that yellowed with age. Most were written in English, but some of the spines were in French, Italian, German and what I think is Latin. They were special copies that flipped with an English translation; Grandpa used them to help me practice my language skills.

I don't know what possessed me to take the books out from the shelves, but I figured it was one way to look behind a shelf. Its poetry; it's meant to be figuratively, right?

I pulled out the thick books from their spots and laid them out on the floor gently. The room was long with only one window in the back, a door in front and two walls that held the shelves. Both shelves hand six rows and each row had about thirty to forty books on it. You do the math.

When I was finished with one wall, finding nothing I might add. I turned my attention to the other book shelf across from me. I carefully stepped around the books I left around the floor and began the same process I did to the shelf behind me.

When I reached the second row from the top, I found a couple of lines that seemed to be carved into the shelf. I removed more books and discovered it was a carving of an eagle. The lines were smooth and clean. The eagle was in flight with its wings extended up and its head and beak were pointed to the right. Each feather was outlined and detailed and its eye was so realistic, it seemed like any minute now it would blink. I ran my fingers over the design, this was Grandpa's work. I trapped my knuckles on the surface and found it was hollow. I roamed my hands over the surface and found two small blots that looked like they would swing open. On the other side of the blots, there was a thin line that seemed to be plastered together to the wall.

I grabbed the letter opener from the desk and stabbed into the line, peeling away the plaster and forced the small door open. Spider webs were pulled apart as I did, and I squealed and jumped back.

Nothing came out and the small block shaped storage was dark and didn't seem to have anything in it. But I knew I had to put my hand in there to make sure. An uncomfortable shiver passed through my body at the thought of a spider scurrying across my hand. I shook it off, summoned my courage and slipped my hand in. It was cold and the walls were made of stone. I felt my hand around the tiny storage room, and found something on the floor. I pulled the object out; it was a journal with a brown leather cover. I wiped away the spider webs, blew away the dust and skimmed through the pages.

A letter fell to the floor; it was long and yellowed with age. I picked it up and found my name written on the front. It was in Grandpa's handwriting. I checked the journal and it was also written in his hand. I smiled, "It always comes back to you, doesn't it Gramps." I sat in his leather seat, set the journal on the desk and opened the letter.

Dear Amy,

If you're reading this you have discovered that you're a nation and wish to know more about your origins. I know you are only a child now, but I might not live to see your 18th birthday or live long enough after to tell you stories of my time with your father.

I don't wish to scare you, but other nations might not be happy with me knowing about you and Alfred. And as you grow, more people will come to realize that you are not entirely human. And as the list grows, more lives will be placed in danger of being caught in the cross fire.

If the nations ever do discover our family secret, you must seek help. Turned to the journal; it is a record of all the times I've spent with Alfred. Beginning from when I was 17 traveling to each pow wow throughout the country, to the moment he gave you to me.

Go to the date of March 9, 1968

You will find everything you need.

With love, Grandpa

I glanced to his journal, set the letter aside and opened the journal to the page he instructed.

March 9, 1968

It has been almost four years since I've seen Alfred. . .

I'm beginning to worry about him.

The last time I laid eyes on him was on the day of my wedding; the day he chose to tell me he was being sent to Vietnam. Heh, I should have known, he also decided to wear his military uniform that day.

Those were the thoughts that placed through my mind when I awoke this morning to the sound of my new born son crying. It's strange what you would think about at four in the morning as you hold your child.

It has been a month since the North Vietnamese attacked about a hundred South Vietnamese towns and cities. Word has gotten through that the US military was able to stand their ground; but it only proved that the North Vietnamese were stronger than we believed.

I couldn't help but think about Alfred. He fought in the Second World War, then this whole ordeal with the Soviets has caused a bit of a scare about Communism and now he has been pulled into another war in Asia. I admit we didn't leave on good terms. I should have just wished him luck instead of trying to talk him out of it.

Maybe faith is giving me a second chance.

Later that day, Alfred came to my shop. He was dressed in his military uniform. It was dark green with a matching cap. His golden buttons gleamed when the light hit them and his medals were pinned to his chest. As he came in, he opened the door for a young woman that was walking out. His smile was still as bright and carefree as ever.

When he closed the door, he switched the sign from open to close. He removed his hat and nodded, "Hello John, as you can see I'm still alive." He spread out his arms and grinned even wider, as if the hurtful comment I said during our last meeting was a joke.

I snapped and threw a wooden carving of fox at him but he ducked. "Is that what you have to say?!" I exclaimed, "You were gone for four years in the far east! Every day I wondered if you were shot or blown up! It wouldn't have killed you to send one letter!" I held up another carving, ready to hit his big fat head.

"John, put down the cow." he raised his hands in mock surrender.

"It's a bison, you idiot!" I shouted.

"Okay, I'm an idiot, I'm an idiot." He sighed, "It's been four years; can't we just forget our little fight and more on?"

I rolled my eyes and sat the carving of the bison down. "What do you want?"

He pulled up a stool, sat himself across from the counter and gave another smile. "I just came to check on you. Is the married life treating you well? How's Aponi?"

I sighed; this was how Alfred tries to smooth things over, by sweeping any issue we had under the rug. "Yes, and Aponi is just fine. She's home with the little one."

His brows rose as his smile grew wider, "a kid. You had a kid?!" He stood up and grabbed my hand, "Congratulations."

And before I knew it, we were back to our same old ways; chatting about recent news, family and friends and new inventions. "NASA says that they will be able to launch a space craft to the moon next year. It's going to be amazing!"

I was polishing some carvings as he spoke, "Alfred don't get your hopes up. Kennedy may have promised that we will get to the moon, but it's impossible."

"Nothing is impossible, my friend."

I shook my head, "there is a reason why humans were not built to fly. We are meant to be on the Earth plane."

"That's what they said about the Wright Brothers and look what happen. I'll tell you this now John, if you keep thinking the way you do, you'll end up being surprised for the rest of your life."

"You only want us to reach the moon so you could gloat about it to the Soviet Union." I told him.

He shrugged, "That's only one of the many perks," he beamed.

I sighed, "What is up with you and the Soviet Union? Wouldn't it just be best to leave each other be."

Alfred's eyes lost their light as his smile disappeared.

I should've just kept my mouth shut.

He sighed, "Ivan's hurting good nations, I just can't stand by and watch." He grew quiet and brushed his hand through his hair.

A wise man would just let Alfred deal with his demons on his own, in his own time. But I'm not a wise man; I'm his friend. And a friend listens and tries to take on the weight of his demons. So I said, "I'm willing to listen."

He took a deep breath, "Ivan sent a nation to the battle field, a nation that wasn't strong enough to handle this type of war. His name is Latvia, Raivis is his human name," he took another deep breath, "God. I don't know how Ivan was able to get Raivis through the paper work but they must have been desperate for soldiers and to get a nation, they must have seen it as an advantage. But Raivis wasn't a fighter, he may be centuries older than me but he looks like he's a thirteen year old boy. Arthur explained to me once that the aging process is different for each of us but mostly the reason why Raivis hasn't grown is because Ivan crushes him."

He continued to tell his story of how he found Raivis in the after mass of a landmine. Raivis was in agony and barely alive when Alfred stumbled upon him. Alfred said that when he found the small boy, he had a major head wound and had lost both of his legs.

I gave all my attention to Alfred as he told his story about carrying a half-conscious nation back to camp. He had a trusted medic look after the boy as Alfred hid him in a tent away from the other soldiers. He then sent out a letter to President Johnson to send out a plane for Raivis. After about a month the plane came and they were able to take Raivis to a decent hospital, but he was kept as a prisoner of war.

"He wasn't treated badly, he mostly spent his time at the hospital; healing," he finished.

"That poor kid, he'll never walk again." I said grimly.

"Oh he will. It'll take some time but his limbs will grow back."

I must have given him a very surprised look, for he cracked a sad grin and said, "Yes our limbs can grow back. It's a long process no matter how you get the injury, it's also very painful. You know when you were a kid and had growing pains?"

I nodded and he explained, "Well it's like that, but a hundred times worse."

He grew quiet again and I pulled a battle of liquor from under the counter. I placed two shot glasses between us and poured the yellow colored liquid into the small clear glasses. I picked up my glass, "For Raivis, may he get well soon."

Alfred gave a small smile and picked up his glass, "Agreed."

We tapped our glasses together and swallowed our drinks in one gulp. Alfred still carried a serious expression, and for a good reason.

"John, I'm afraid this is goodbye. Not forever, but it's going to be a couple of years. With this war going on and Ivan plotting my downfall, he'll try everything he can to find a kink in my armor. I don't want you and your family to be dragged into this mess."

I chuckled and played it off as a joke. "What? You think Ivan will try and get me?"

Alfred didn't answer, only stared daggers at me. "Yes. That's actually what he'll do. You know too much about me, and that can be used to get the other nations to agree with him."

That confused me, "To agree with what?" I asked.

"To make you disappear."

My playful banter was gone and Alfred pulled out a white card from his pocket, "Don't worry, I've made a backup plan. If you're ever in trouble call this number and say this code phase: 'I know the eagle'. You can only use the number once, so save it for a real emergency."

I took the card and found that the area code was for Washington DC. "Let me guess, you're the eagle," I said to lighten the mood.

Alfred smiled and he rose to his feet, "I may not have a spirit animal but I always believed if I did it would be a bald eagle."

I shook my head, "A bald eagle is nothing compared to the golden eagle, now they rule the skies."

"Let's not get into that debate again," he said with a playful grin on his face. "One for the road," he lifted his glass and I poured him his last drink. He finished it quickly and slammed the glass back against the counter.

"Are you sure you should drive?" I asked, concerned.

He laughed, "I can hold my liquor. But Artie, dear lord, he can't even walk after two glasses of the hard stuff." He grabbed his cap and walked to the door, but before he left he turned around and gave one final farewell. "Goodbye John, hopefully this won't be our last depart," he said.

I gave him a small smile, "It won't." Then I saluted him, "Goodbye Mr. America."

"Shut up, I know you're mocking me," he proclaimed as he placed his cap on his head.

We laughed and in the next minute he was gone.

Now I sit here in my office, pondering over the fact that other, not so friendly nations could come and harm me and my family. What would they do to Aponi? She barely knows Alfred.

And Jr. He's only a baby; would the nations take him away from us?

I don't wish to think about it, but why do I have an uneasy feeling that this is only just the beginning.

The entry ends and I turned the page to find the next entry was written ten years after. There was also a card attached to the page with a paper clip. I pulled it out, the number had faded but I could still make out what was written. I leaned against the chair and skimmed through the journal, my mind seemed to have finally cleared, yet I couldn't help but think I only ended up with more questions than answers.

I closed Grandpa's journal and grabbed my phone. If Grandpa had already used the number for help, I was screwed. But after the third ring someone answered.

"Hello, may I help you?" a woman's voice proclaimed.

"Uh, uh," why the hell am I stuttering?! Say something stupid!

"Ma'am, this number is only supposed to be used for a serious emergency. Now you have wasted this number for someone who would have truly needed it. Goodbye-"

"Wait!" I cried, "I know the eagle! I know the eagle!"

I was met with silence from the other line, and then she said, "Please hold."

"Huh?"

But she was already gone and I was on hold with a classical song playing in the background. After five minutes, another woman picked up. "Hello?"

"Uh, hi, um, my name is Amy Hawkfeather and I-"

"Oh yes, I was expecting you in July, but it's better to have an early start if you ask me. Now, what could be the problem?"

"Uh how did you-"

"Honey we don't have a lot time here. You need help, am I right?"

"Uh yeah, but-"

"Then tell me, when will the nations arrive?"

I decided to ignore my questions for this mysterious woman and answered, "I don't know."

"Then check your email. Quick."

I knitted my brows in confusion but logged into my mail and found a message from Arthur that was sent on Tuesday.

Amy,

The nations will arrive to the States by the end of this week. We will hold the meeting at your school, for the auditorium is the only place big enough for all of us.

The meeting will begin at ten in the morning on Friday, classes will be dismissed.

Prepare for the worse.

Arthur

My eyes stared at the line, 'Prepare for the worse.' My emotions were swirling and I couldn't think straight. It took the woman on the other line three times to get my attention.

"Sorry. The nations will meet at Nightingale International Private School in Summerland California. The meeting will start at ten on Friday in the auditorium," I informed.

"Every well, I'll be there," she answered.

"Wait, who are you?"

But the line went dead.

I tried calling back, but all I got was the operator, "The number you have reached has been disconnected."

After redialing three more times and getting the same robotic answer. I gave up and fell back into the leather seat, feeling completely drained.

I folded myself on the desk with my cheek on my forearm and my hand resting on Grandpa's journal. The pounding in my head had finally lessened and my eyes were beginning to droop to a close. I finally felt secure enough to fall asleep.

But Amy was not safe.

The small door of the storage was still open, allowing a dark vapor to sneak into the room. It slithered around the towers of books and headed straight to Amy. It wrapped itself around the chair and hovered around her. Amy's golden aura was beaming and so full of life. The vapor purred in pleasure of the thought of devouring it, but it was on strict orders.

The vapor seeped into the gold, engulfing itself into the light's warmth and disappearing from sight.