"They're staying for dinner, of course they're staying for dinner," I mumbled as I towel dried my hair. I decided to take a quick shower, mostly to rinse out the sand and to change into a pair of worn out jeans and a graphic tee.

"Girl, what's your deal?" Michel asked as he clicked through the TV channels.

"My deal? They are here." I gestured to my closed bedroom door.

"Sweetie you did tell them to visit the town," Jamie said as she rocked Raiden in her arms.

"My family is not part of the town. This," I waved my hands around my room, "is my sanctuary from those weirdoes."

Jamie shrugged, "I thought they were nice."

"You didn't spend a week with them. They're so, ugh!" I pulled at my hair, "I don't even have a word to describe them. They're irritating, territorial and-and seem to only live in the past." I paled, "What if I end up like them. Reminiscing about the past rather than living in the present?!"

"Honey, please realize when I say this, I say it with love. Shut up." I opened my mouth to say something, but Michel held up his hand, "Don't talk, just sit and listen. It's time for some overdue tough love." He placed his hands on my shoulders and sat me down on the window seat. He turned to the twins, "Could you guys take Lady and go play outside, please."

Blair pouts, "I don't want to miss this!"

Blake grabbed her hand, "We're going, come Lady," he patted his leg with his spare hand.

"You give up too easily," Blair hissed as they walked out the door and closed it behind them.

Michel turned back to me, "Now, Amy you need to be the bigger person here and let go of whatever resentment you're holding for these guys."

"But-"

"No buts. You're a nation, they're nations. Like it or not you're going to be spending the rest of your life with them."

I slumped, "You're not helping."

"Maybe not but I am." He sighed, "Amy we're not going to be here as long you will."

I looked him in the eye, "Don't."

He shrugged, "but it's the truth. That's why you need to have some friends."

"I don't need them."

"What the hell are you so scared of," he said, irritated.

"I ain't scared."

"Yes, you are," Jamie spoke and we both turned to face her. "In the beginning, when you first found out about being a nation, you denied it. Denied Arthur, Francis, and Matthew, you just wanted to put a wall between them and you. And then when you finally let them in, they hurt you."

"Well, we made up," I crossed my arms.

"No you didn't. Matthew told me what happened at the Emerald, you walked out on them and told them they weren't acting like a family."

"That sounds like a rejection to me," Michel chimed in.

"They don't seem to care."

"Yes they do," Jamie shifted Raiden from one arm to the next. "Just like Michel said, you're afraid that if you let them in again, they'll hurt you. You're acting the same way with the other nations. You can't use us as an excuse anymore."

I knitted my brows at her, "what do you mean by that?"

"You were using us as an excuse to keep the nations at arm's length, but now that they know about us and can't harm us. You have nothing left but yourself holding you back."

Before I could say anything, Jamie handed me Raiden. "We're going grocery shopping with Sanjay; we'll be back in an hour."

Then Michel followed her to the door, "so play nice." He wiggled his fingers in a farewell and closed the door.

What the fuck just happen.

I groaned and leaned myself against the wall. Raiden began to squirm and his face twisted in a cry. He wailed and I winced, "hey, shoo, its okay, its okay," I soothed.

He continued to scream/cry and I rose to my feet to rock him in my arms. Then with one hand, I connected my iPod to my speakers, put the volume at low and played my Lana Del Rey playlist. "Hush, hush," I whispered and began to hum along with the song 'Radio'.

After a few more cries, Raiden finally begins to settle and I relaxed. "So you like Lana Del Rey?" I nodded in approval, "Good taste."

My door opened, "Is he okay?" Melissa asked.

"Yeah Mel he's fine," I smiled, "it's not my first rodeo."

Melissa closed the door and walked to sit herself on the window seat. "I understand why you don't want to be near them."

"Melissa, were you ears dropping?" I said playfully, "I'm shocked."

"I'm trying to be serious here."

"Fine," then I whispered to Raiden, "Your mama's no fun."

"I heard that."

"She also has super hearing, you'll never get away with anything," I giggled.

Melissa shook her head, but she still had a smile on her face. Then her voice grew stern, "Amy, I'm worried about you and I'm scared for you. I mean, you know what happened when the Europeans came to America. They pillaged the native tribes, raped the women and killed men and children alike. And their diseases nearly wiped them off. How Alfred could even deal with that, I can't imagine; and to add insult to injury, he was fought over for land. I wonder, did they decide to mark him with a pen? The head and arms belonged to the English while the torso belonged to the French. Oh and let's not forget about the Dutch, the Finnish, the Swedish, the Russians and the Spanish."

I nodded, "I get. I could be torn apart." The memory of my nightmare caused a cold shiver to go down my spine.

"I don't trust them," she said. "What will stop them from doing the same thing to you? Maybe not colonizing the country, but trying to claim you; who knows, maybe Arthur, Francis and Matthew are just waiting for their right moment to strike."

A protective nerve sparked to life. "They wouldn't do that," I said without hesitation. "You may not trust them Mel, but I do. They've had my back and," I sighed, letting the truth sink in. "They care about me. Even when I hurt them, they still care. And even when they hurt me, I-I care."

Melissa rose to her feet and picked up Raiden from my arms, "That's all I needed to hear," she smiled and walked out of the room.

Melissa Arora closed the door behind her and found three blond nations waiting outside Amy's room. "See, I told you guys she cares." She walked to the guest room with the balcony, for it was the only room with a spare crib.

Arthur was the first to speak, like always. "Is it true? You don't trust us?"

She sighed, "In the beginning," she rocked Raiden with an Indian lullaby that Sanjay taught her. "But as I got to know you, I could see that you only wanted to be in her life. And maybe, just maybe, you all wanted to be part of this family." The baby's eyes closed and he laid his head on her shoulder.

She noticed their eyes widened in confusion and she smiled, "I can see why. Alfred and my grandfather were close. Close enough for them to meet each other over the years and for Alfred to allow Grandpa and our family to raise his daughter. I'm sure you all were curious about us."

Francis chuckled, "yes, we were."

Melissa laid Raiden gently into the soft cushion of the crib as Matthew proclaimed, "you're right you know."

"I'm right about a lot of things; you have to be more specific."

"About us wanting to be part of the Hawkfeather family; maybe Al is left here somewhere. If only John Senior was still alive, he could've told us stories. It would've helped, you know. Being a nation, our leaders expect us to be wise, strong and emotionless."

"Like that ever happens," Arthur and Francis shared a knowing glance.

"They seem to forget that we experience feelings like humans do. All this time we were waiting for Alfred to be found or to hear the worse, now that we have, it's sad yes, but we have closure. But if only we knew sooner, if only Al could have just-just," Matthew blinked back tears. "None of this would have to be so forced."

Melissa strolled over to the room's closet and pulled out family albums from the top shelf. "I have a story to tell you guys." She separated the albums by the oldest to youngest on the bed. "This is not the first time Amy has kept people she loves at arm's length." She sat on the bed and began to scroll through one of the albums. She stopped at a picture of a grinning five year old Amy. "We told Amy she was adopted when she was five. She started asking questions on why she didn't have dark hair or eyes or why her skin was so light. Mom would tell her she got her looks from her Spanish blood." She smiled, "I wonder does Spain look like Amy?"

Arthur smirked and Francis said, "No, not at all."

She nodded and turned another page through the album, "When Dad told her the truth, she became distant. She would avoid us and hide away in the stables for hours. You all want to know how she got her nickname? She would run off into the forest, at first Grandpa would tell Mom not to worry and to let her be. But one time, Amy was gone for three days. We were terrified, running around the forest searching for her and when Grandpa found her, she was playing with two grizzly cubs and was snuggling together with the mother."

The countries stared at her, wide eyed. "You can't be serious," Arthur said.

"Grandpa took pictures," she pulled out two photos and handed them over.

The pictures displayed Amy, her hair long, curly and tangled. She was covered with patches of dirt and leaves and she was barefoot. In one, she had wrestled a bear cub to the ground but the second cub was already on top of her. The mother was nearby but she didn't seem fazed that a human child had joined her cubs in play time. The second photograph showed the mother bear nuzzling Amy with her snout.

"Dad had a tranquilizer gun, so it didn't take long to get Amy away from the family of bears. Dad was able to get them transported to a national park and Mom had an iron grip on Amy for the weeks after."

Melissa sighed and continued to scroll through the photos, "Amy never told us why she ran off with the bears, but we believe it was because she didn't feel like she was part of our family anymore. She didn't trust us when we told her we loved her, she didn't believe us anymore.

"But when she came home that day, Mom started yelling at Amy but in the end she broke down and smothered her in a hug. I think it was that moment when Amy's walls came crumbling down."

"Are you saying that we need to hug her?" Matthew asked.

"I don't think that will end well," Arthur proclaimed.

"No," Melissa smiled, "just give her time, she'll come around." She rose of the bed and grabbed her purse from the nightstand. She pulled out an envelope and handed it to Arthur.

He pulled out a stack of photographs from the clean white envelope and Francis and Matthew moved in closer to take a look. "They're pictures from Johnny's wedding," Melissa said. She knew every photo they were shuffling through. Pictures of Amy dancing with each of them, Francis and Amy posing with the bride and groom; Matthew and Amy wielding jazz instruments with The Fedoras and there was even a photo of Arthur being tackled by the kids and Amy standing over him, giggling. The last two pictures they came to was of all four of them sitting around a table. One was a display of them talking and laughing among themselves and the second was of them smiling at the camera.

Melissa grinned, "She can't hide her affection for you guys."

The Lana Del Rey playlist continued to play as I lounged on my three window tower seat. My knees were bent and I sat up with a pillow behind my back. I caressed Grandpa's ring with one hand and twirled the ends of my dream catcher with the other. My finger stopped at a wooden figure of a bear and I smiled. Then I tilted my head towards the window and stared into the afternoon sky.

You can't use us as an excuse anymore.

I'm not.

You're afraid if you let them in again, they'll hurt you.

I'm not.

You have nothing but yourself holding you back.

"I'm not," I whispered and closed my eyes, trying to think about anything else besides these confusing emotions. I glanced to Alfred's letter on my lap. I've read it five times, but Alfred only seemed to have left more questions than answers. I mean, how many people did he knew? Sophie Ross and Carlos Lopez, did they know what Alfred was? Were they friends? Well, Alfred met Sophie during the seventies; we all know what went on in the seventies.

I laughed to myself, all the stories Sophie could tell me. Even Carlos could shed some light on the mystery of Alfred's double life. The life he kept hidden from the other nations; his human life.

The house in Virginia, the storage room, would it hold answers? For the female nation Alfred supposedly married? Why would Alfred confine in Grandpa, Sophie and Carlos? What made them trustworthy? Also, who was Karen?

I turned to Grandpa's journal on my nightstand, I've haven't read another entry since the day I found it. I took two big steps to snatch the journal and sat back down in my seat. I opened to the first page.

June 10, 1955

I must be insane.

There has to be a logical explanation for Alfred F. Jones. He must age well or he must be the son of the man I met when I was seven. They cannot be the same person.

Hell, when I look at what I just written, I know I can't fool myself; because I knew what I saw and I know it's real.

First time I met Alfred, I was just a child, traveling in the pow wows with my family. We are tribe made up of different members from each Native American tribe. The native families here travel through the country together and are homeschooled by our wise men and women. Every other weekend, we stop in a major city or town and hold a festival there for the people. What I don't understand is, how could one person be there every weekend; every town, every city, if he wasn't following us.

For months Alfred was there. Watching us dance and perform. Buying our paintings and carvings and eating our food.

I was not the only one to notice back then, the council took notice but most importantly my father took notice. My father, Tyee Hawkfeather, the chief of our mixed up tribe called Alfred out and instructed for him to meet him and the council later that day.

Father never told me or my brothers what happen that night, but Alfred was never seen again; till now.

I'm sixteen, I'll be seventeen on the 22nd. That means ten years have passed, and Alfred has not aged since.

I may not be chief, but this is my tribe, my family. I will not let some strange white man poke his nose into our business.

I confronted him after my part in the war dance; he was skimming through our paintings for sale.

I took a deep breath, hoping that I was wrong. "Alfred F. Jones."

He turned to face me; his hair was still dirty blond and parted in the middle. His eyes were still blue and his skin was smooth with not a single winkle. He smiled, "Hello, um do I know you?"

"Doubt it, but you know my father, Tyee Hawkfeather."

His face gave nothing away, but his smile grew wider. "Oh are you one of Tyee's boys. Tristen? Clay?"

"John," I hissed. Of course he named my two older brothers first before me, was he trying to tick me off or was he an idiot? I tried to found out. "Who are you," I commanded.

"Uh, don't you know? You called me out," he said.

I bundled my fist into his clean pressed suite and brought his face an inch away from mine. "Don't play stupid with me. I saw you when I was seven years old. But that can't be, you must be the son of that Alfred my father met or-"

Alfred grinned, "Are you hungry? I know I am. Are you free? Of course you are." He pulled my fingers apart from his tie and began to drag me out of the art tent and down the street. "There's a Denny's just down the street from here, I've been there a few times; they have amazing steaks." As he continued to talk, I tried to break away from his grip, but his hold on me was strong. He didn't pay attention to when I clawed at his hand or punched his arm.

No one else seemed to notice my struggle, for Alfred walked quickly and weaved around people easily. I almost tripped several times before we reached the small restaurant.

"Table for two," Alfred asked the host.

"Help," I cried, "I'm here against my will!"

The host glanced at Alfred worriedly and he laughed, "Oh John," he wrapped his arm around my shoulders and ruffled my hair. "He's such a kidder." Then he whispered in my ear, "If you want me to answer your questions, you will have lunch with me."

I glared at him and I shook his arm off. The host didn't want to bother with us and simply lead us to a table (in the colored section of course), gave us our menus and walked away.

Alfred watched the host head back to the front and he turned to me. "So Johnny-"

"Don't call me that," I narrowed my eyes at him.

He held his hands up in mock surrender, "Sorry, sorry. So, how's your family?"

"I believe I'm asking the questions here," I said.

"Oh come on, can't we have a normal lunch? Ask questions, talk about the weather, catch up with family news, you know, like friends do."

"We're not friends."

He sighed, "Kid, you have to work with me here."

"Who are you calling a kid? You're what? Two, maybe three years older than me," I proclaimed.

"Try two hundred and fifty-three, possibly more." he smiled.

Before I could say anything, our waitress walked up to our table. "Hello, I'm Betty; I'll be your waitress today. What would you like to drink?"

"Coca cola," Alfred gave our waitress a carefree smile, as if he just didn't confess to me that he was over two hundred years old.

When the waitress turned to me, I sighed, "Water please."

She nodded and walked to the counter. Alfred glanced to me, "have you ever had coca cola? It's good stuff."

"It's acid in a bottle," I proclaimed, "how people can drink it, is behind my understanding."

He shrugged his shoulders, "I didn't like it at first but over the years it grew on me."

"When did you first drink coca cola?" I asked.

"When it first came out in Atlanta, 1886," he answered.

I snorted, "Are you messing with me? There's no way you're that old."

"But I am," he grinned and our waitress walked over and place our drinks on the table. "What can I get you boys?"

"I'll have your steak, with a side of spinach and mashed potatoes," Alfred handed her his menu.

They turned to me and I stuttered, "I'll, uh, just give me what he's having." The waitress nodded as she wrote down on her pad and headed to the kitchen.

"My turn," he grinned, "how's your family?"

"I'm not here to answer questions."

"But we had a good system, I'll ask a question, you answer it and then you ask a question and I'll answer it."

I knitted my brows at him, "how is it your turn?"

"No, no," he wiggled his finger at me, "that's counted as a question and it's my turn."

I rolled my eyes, "My family's fine."

"Is that all?"

"Yes," I hissed.

"Fine," he shrugged his shoulders, "your turn."

"Do you really think your over two hundred years old?" I asked sarcastically.

He smirked, "I don't think, I know. How old are you?"

"Sixteen, I'll be seventeen in a few weeks."

"Oh I remember when I turned seventeen, well mostly when I was able to look seventeen."

"And when was that?" I played along.

He took a moment, "Mid-seventeen hundreds, maybe."

"Are you insane?" I asked.

"It's not your turn," he sang.

I brushed my hands through my hair in frustrated, "has anyone ever told you that you're irritating."

He laughed, "Dozens, especially my siblings. I know that you have two brothers, how are they?"

I sighed, "They're just fine. Both are on sure paths to becoming council men and Tristen will be chief just like Father."

"Hm, I'm hearing a bit of resentment in your voice," he smirked.

I glared and refused to humor him. I had a mission and I expected to get answers. When our waitress came back with our food, we said our thanks and I waited for her to be out of hearing distance.

"If you're not insane, and happen to be over two hundred years old. What could you possibly be?" I asked with all seriousness in my voice.

"Can you keep a secret?"

Before I could shout my frustration at him, he took his steak knife and slashed his wrist. I gasped and tried to leap out of my seat. But Alfred held me by the arm and forced my head down to look at his wrist.

My eyes widened as the skin fused together and the blood stopped flowing. It only took a second and his wound was gone, leaving nothing but unharmed skin. He released his hold on me and leaned back into his seat. He grabbed his napkin and wiped away the blood that was left over. I watched him with wide, terrified eyes.

"Don't give me that look," he smiled, "I'm not a monster, just a nation." His smile grew wider, "I'm America." He then continued to tell me of his origins. About being a representation of American culture, race and government. I don't know what it was that made me snap; maybe it was because he called himself the representation of America and he was a white man.

"You are not America," I hissed. "You are the white man's version of America. Your government treats us as if we are second class citizens but you won't hesitant to call us in for war. And when we come back, you still treat us like crap."

"This is about your uncle, isn't it?" he asked.

The next few minutes came in a blur as rage clouded my thoughts. I slammed my fist into his cheek and he fell back along with his chair. "You have no right to talk about my uncle!"

The people in the restaurant stared at me with scared and worried eyes. Then a middle aged white man snarled at me, "Damn Indians, they're a violent bunch no matter how much they try to act like us. They're still savages."

"What did you say?!" I flared and before I could even get close to him, someone held me back.

"Calm down John, he's not worth it," Alfred exclaimed as he pulled me out of Denny's. He then walked me back to the pow wow by the hand and sat me down on a wooden bench. I don't know how long we sat there, watching the people walk by as the day waned down. But after what felt like hours pass, I just had to ask.

"How did you know my uncle?"

"Johnny," he nodded with a smile, "met him when we were in Europe; he was good soldier and a great man."

I nodded, "I was named after him."

"You look like him too," he blinked back tears, "I'm sorry."

I turned to him, "for what?"

"He fought. He fought so hard of this country and when he got off that boat in New York, he was beaten to death by a group of hateful drunks. He deserved a hero's welcome, not to be killed in a dark alley way and left for dead."

I inhaled through my nose, to calm myself, "Is that why you're here? To apologize? It's not like you killed him."

"But it was my people."

"If your America, aren't we your people to?"

He snorted, "You're right, that whole division in race is even affecting me."

"The war ended when I was seven, why did you follow our tribe in the months after?" I asked.

He took a breath. "I found out about a whole new side of me that I didn't even know existed. I needed guidance, and Johnny told me about your tribe, how your father gathered members from other tribes and called it The United Natives." He smirked, "Johnny always said it wasn't the most original name he could come up with." He took another breath, "Then he would tell me about how all of you would travel from coast to coast to teach people about native culture; it's amazing. We could learn something from you all."

I lifted a brow, "what do you mean?"

"The native tribes have had battles and feuds between themselves for decades before the Europeans even set foot here. Those battles were bloody and many of your ancestors died. Yet all of you can put that aside and live together."

"Mostly because we all had one common enemy," I said with bitter humor in my voice.

He chuckled, but it was sad. "That's how most friendships start."

We shared a knowing glance and remained quiet for a few minutes. Then a new question emerged from my subconscious, something I've wanted to know, but never knew it till now. "What did you and council talk about that night?"

"I mostly talked to Tyee, asking for guidance and he allowed me to have a vision quest."

"Can nations have vision quests?" I asked.

A grin spread wide across his face, "does this mean you believe me," he bantered. Then he checked his watch and rose to his feet, "I have to go, I was only able to stop by for lunch." He gave me his hand to shake, "Goodbye John, I hope we meet again."

I pulled my hand away, "I hope we don't."

He gave me a carefree smile and turned his back to me, "I believe this is the start of a beautiful friendship."

"You're delusional!" I called after him.

Alfred only waved his hand in farewell and continued to take his stroll to city hall.

It was only minutes after he left did I notice a brown leather book on Miss Isi's sale table. She has amazing talent with leather, and the cover caught my eye. It was simple but yet elegant. I have no idea why I brought the journal. Yes, it's pretty but I'll never remember to write in it and it seems like a waste that I brought this for only one entry.

But I needed to record this, because maybe this is the day I have lost my mind.

I smiled at the last sentence of the entry, "You and me both Gramps."

Then I heard a high scream and I looked out to find Blair and Blake playing with Lady. I smiled and closed the journal. The playlist ended and I went up to turn the speakers off till I heard a new voice join the playful cries. "Hello!"

Peter?!

I jumped back to the window and swung it opened. Peter and all the other nations from the beach were standing in the front yard. They were all dressed in casual clothes and they all carried food in their arms. "What you all doing here?" I cried.

They all looked up and Tino answered, "You told us to come."

"What? No I didn't."

"Yeah, you did," Peter proclaimed and pulled out his phone, "you sent me a text, inviting us to dinner."

I knitted my brows in confusion, "I haven't been on my phone," I said as I patted myself down for my smartphone.

"We have," Blair called out and held up my phone.

"You little-" I gritted my teeth and climbed out the window. Once I landed on the ground, I turned to face the twins. "Give it to me."

"No," Blair stuck her tongue out at me. "This is what happens when you kick us out!"

"Blair! Give it to me!" I took a step towards her and she ran between the nations. I chased after her, "You little brat!"

"Blake catch!" she threw my phone and Blake caught it with both hands.

I turned to him, "Blake," I said calmly, "give me back my phone."

He side glanced to Blair and ducked behind Erik. I leaped after him and he weaved around the nations. He then tossed it to Feliks, "hot potato!"

"Feliks," I held out my hand.

He grinned, "This seems like fun," and threw it to Mikkel.

"Mikkel!" I called out as an evil smile spread over his lips and he flung it at Lukas

"Stop! Seriously, give it back!"

"That depends," Lukas twirled my phone in between his fingers, "What's my nation's capital?"

I guessed, "Uh, Norwiega?"

"Did you just make that up?" Lukas asked.

"No." I lied.

He shook his head and threw my phone to Tino. "Oh it's my turn ya! Do you know where my capital is?"

"I don't know and I don't care," I said annoyed with this stupid game.

"Oh that's too bad," Tino sighed and threw it up to Berwald.

I ran up to the freakish tall man and jumped for my phone as he held it up over his head. Then he hurled it over and I followed it as it landed in Sadik's hands.

"What are you doing here?" I asked in a high voice.

"I called Japan to hang, but he said he was here so I decided to join the party." He gestured to his side where Heracles and Gupta stood. "These guys wanted to come along to."

"Hello America," Gupta greeted and Heracles just nodded.

I inhaled through my nose, "Alright, cool, just give me my phone."

"No, this is too entertaining," he smirked and tossed it over to Toris.

I didn't bother to ask, I just held out my hand to him. He was about to give it over till a hand snatched it away from him.

That hand belonged to Gilbert Beilschmidt.

"I know this is a stupid question, but why are you here?" I asked, defeated.

He smirked, "tracked Ludwig's phone, didn't realize it would lead me to the forbidden zone."

"Then you should give me my phone and leave."

"But we just got here," a young man with dark hair and green eyes whined. Then he grabbed my hand in an exaggerated handshake, "Hey there, I'm Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, also known as Spain." Then he pulled a young boy from behind; he was fair skinned, had golden hazel eyes and dark hair with a curl to the side. "And this little cutie is Lovino Vargas."

"Get off of me, you bastard!" he shoved him off and turned to face me. He cleared his throat and gave a polite greeting.

I focused my attention on Gilbert, "phone, now."

"You'll get it miss sassy pants, after you apologize for this," he pointed to his swollen nose.

"I already did."

"Yeah, but I don't think you meant it. I believe you need to be more sincere."

I had a bad feeling where this was going but I still asked, "What do you want?"

He smirked, "A kiss, right on the lips."

Everyone was silent, waiting for me to make a move. I took a deep breath and gave him my sweetest smile. "Okay."

He blinked, "really?"

"Of course, now close your eyes," I said lovingly.

He lifted a brow in suspicion and I placed my hand on his cheek. "Don't you trust me?" I whispered as my fingers caressed his jaw and the back of his ear. A slight shiver passed over his shoulders, but no one else noticed except for me. I pulled my hand back but I lingered, "Close your eyes," I batted my eyes up at him.

"You won't regret it," he grinned as he did what I told him.

"Neither will you," I said through a forced smile and patted my leg. Lady came to sit at my side and I bent down to pick her up. I stepped closer to Gilbert to whisper in his ear, "keep in mind, I like to French kiss." I prepared Lady, "Pucker up." I guided my dog's snout to Gilbert's lips and she lashed out with her tongue. His eyes shot opened and he stepped back, but not before I seized my phone from his grasp.

I placed Lady on the ground and I grinned, "Victory!"

Mikkel cried out in laughter, "its official I love this girl!"

I slid my phone into my jean pocket, "Word of advice nations, if you want a kiss from me, ya'll got to try harder than that."

"Is that a challenge I hear," Sadik's eye sparked to life as he placed hand near his ear, mimicking the gesture for him in need to hear well.

"Maybe, or you might be losing your hearing old man." I grinned and Gupta chuckled. Then I walked to the front door, "Blake, Blair, Lady, get the house." They came running and I smacked the twins on each of their bottoms as they passed through door. "Don't take my phone you little brats." Then I turned to face the nations and sighed, "Get in here."

"We're invited?" Raivis asked uncertainly.

"Yes, now hurry up, before I change my mind."

The nations quickly followed the twins in and I greeted them each as they walked in. Gilbert cut in front of Feliks, "You will pay for that," he hissed at me.

"Try anything and I'll throw you under a bus," I threatened.

Then Feliks pushed aside Gilbert to get inside, "like, move!"

"You heard him," I pushed him through the door.

Toris came next and I whispered, "I'm sorry about your face and I will make it up to you. I know where my dad keeps the good whiskey."

He chuckled, "thank you," and walked in.

Antonio and Lovino were the last to enter and I was about to close the door behind me, till Johnny's BMW and Sanjay's van drove up.

"Johnny!" I called out in excitement and ran to his car. He parked and both he and Celine climbed out. I leaped into his arms for a crushing hug. "When did you get here?"

"Our plane landed two hours ago," he gestured to the house, "who were those guys?"

"Nations, be prepared they're kind of a handful."

He grinned, "don't worry I'll give them the old Johnny charm."

I shared a quick hug with Celine as Sanjay, Jamie and Michel came up to us with bags of food in their arms. Everyone shared affectionate greetings as Johnny, Celine and I helped them with the rest of the food. When we entered the living room, we found the nations circled around the living room table and they were laughing. Curiously got the better of me, so I poked my head in between Peter and Raivis; pictures of my childhood were spread over the table. Melissa had brought out every photo of my life. Every embarrassing moment, every middle and high school function, every goofy face and every dressed up Halloween, was on that table and the nations were eating it up.

"This is the Halloween when we dressed her up as pumpkin," Melissa held out a picture of me on my first Halloween.

Tino was the first to look at it, "Aw, she looks so adorable!"

"More like hilarious," Erik laughed and passed along the photo. The countries would take one look at the image and they would burst out laughing.

"Awesome, we're doing show and tell? I got tons of pictures and videos on my flash drive," Michel grinned.

Melissa clapped her hands, "should we get the home movies out?"

"No!" I said horrified.

"Yes!" Michel and Jamie cried out over me.

"I'll go get them," Melissa ran up the stairs and Dad gestured for us to set the grocery bags in the kitchen. Once I was done I ran after my sister, "Melissa," I called out.

"Hush, the baby's sleeping," she snapped softly.

I lowered my voice, "You're already showing them my baby pictures. You do not need to show them the home movies."

"Oh come on Amy it will be fun."

"It will be mortifying," I hissed.

She brought down the tapes from the guest room closet shelf. "For you maybe, but it will be fun for us," she smiled.

"You are evil. I see where your kids get it from."

She giggled and walked down the stairs, "I'll take that as a complement."