I ran my hands through my short brown hair as I watched the sun rise. I hadn't slept. I could still picture the surprised look on my dad's face, as if he couldn't believe I'd blown up like that. Obviously he really hadn't been around lately; otherwise it wouldn't have come as much of a surprise that I was angry at him. He hadn't even been around enough to know that I was mad at him for not being around.

I felt kind of bad for yelling at the girl, and calling her an 'it,' but it had hurt to see that my dad seemed to care more about the well-being of some teenage patient from the hospital than his own son. Maybe he'd just always secretly wanted a girl. That would actually explain a lot.

I shook my head slowly before wiping my hands down my face to try and clear my exhaustion. I carefully got up and made my way across the roof and back into my room through the second storey window. As I closed and locked it, my stomach let out a loud grumble.

“Breakfast,” I said to myself.

I headed downstairs, taking them two at a time. I knew my parents would be up soon because Dad had to take the girl to the police station before heading off to the hospital and Mom couldn't fall back asleep once his alarm woke her up, but for now I was hoping to have the kitchen to myself. To my great disappointment, though, I didn't. The girl sat at the island, looking even more tired than I was and staring blankly at the tiles.

“Hey,” I muttered, heading for the cereal cupboard.

She jumped as if she hadn't noticed me come in, despite the fact that I had not been at all quiet about it.

“Didn't sleep?” she guessed.

I just shook my head as I pulled out the Apple Cinnamon O's.

“Me neither,” she sighed, almost to herself.

“Cool story,” I shot back.

She seemed to flinch slightly and I almost felt bad for being so harsh. Almost. I grabbed a bowl, a spoon and the milk before sitting down at the island across from her. She watched intently as I poured the milk and cereal and then stirred it around with my spoon, getting the cereal soggy. As I took a large spoonful and shoved it in my mouth, I raised an eyebrow at her.

“Can I help you?” I mumbled around my mouthful.

“Am I- Can I. . . . May I have some?” she asked, licking her lips, her eyes still glued on my bowl.

“Knock yourself out,” I shrugged, rolling my eyes.

Her face scrunched up at that, but she pulled the milk and cereal closer to herself before slowy getting up and making her way to the cupboards. After a minute of searching she found everything she needed and sat back down to pour the milk and cereal. Then she began shoveling back the cereal as if her life depended on it.

“For Christ's sake, when was the last time you ate?” I questioned.

“I can't remember,” she replied.

“How can you not- Oh,” I realized.

She glanced up at me for a second before shaking her head slightly and turning back to her food. I studied her as she ate. Her dark eyebrows were pulled together and her brown hair cascaded around her shoulders. Her long eyelashes brushed against her skin and her brown eyes looked anywhere but at me. My observations were interrupted, however, as my dad entered the room.

“Morning, Ket, Ro,” he smiled, as if nothing had happened last night.

I scoffed into my breakfast.

“Good morning,” she said quietly.

I tightened my fist around my spoon, bending it slightly. I couldn't take this. I picked up my bowl and started out of the kitchen.

“Ket,” my dad scolded. “You aren't supposed to bring food to your room.”

“I don't care,” I called back, starting up the stairs.

*-*-*

I watched Dr. Thomas out of the corner of my eye, unsure of what to do. I lifted my bowl to my lips and gulped down the last of the milk.

“Would you like me to wash this?” I asked quietly. “I hope it's okay that I had some. . . .”

“No, that's alright, and of course it's okay,” he reassured me.

I gave him a small smile. “On the bright side, I'll be out of here soon and that will make things easier between you and Ket. Ket . . . that's an odd name, isn't it?”

I could see the hesitation on his face as he debated whether or not to address my first statement or the second. I hoped for both our sakes' that he chose the second.

“That's actually a kind of funny story,” he relented finally. “Most people say that doctors' writing is just chicken scratch, but I've always been quite proud of how neat mine is. It wasn't on the night Ket was born, though. Kendra and I had decided that we wanted our boy to be named Blake, but my hand was just shaking so badly that I couldn't quite get the letters out. To this day, his legal name on his birth certificate remains 'Blanket.' I don't know who looked at my shaky writing and decided out of that mess that I must have meant that I wanted my son's name to be Blanket Thomas, but nevertheless, it is what it is.”

I let out a small giggle. “Blanket Thomas?”

Dr. Thomas nodded.

“The great Dr. Thomas and his son Blanket,” I said to myself in amusement.

He rolled his eyes at me. “Please, call me Jarod. Now, we'd better get you to the police station.”

 '

As we drove down the street towards the station, I stared out the window and wondered if I had ever seen any of the things outside the window before. Did I know any of the people we passed? What if my family was the couple who frantically jogged across the street in front of our car at the set of lights? What if they were looking for me?

I hadn't slept at all last night because I was so scared that if I fell asleep I would wake up again with no memory of the day before. I was scared I'd forget about Jarod, Kendra- and even Ket- too.

Jarod pulled the car into the parking lot of the police station, almost getting hit by a taxi in the process, and then we both hopped out. I took a deep breath as we made our way towards the front door and Jarod flashed me a reassuring smile.

“We're going to find your family,” he promised.

I was still deciding whether or not I believed him as we walked up to the front counter.

“How can I help you?” the guy behind the desk asked.

“Hi, my name is Dr. Jarod Thomas. I called last night. This is Ro, the patient who is suffering from amnesia. Obviously our main goal is reuniting her with her family, and that is where you come in. We want to know who she is and get her home,” Jarod explained with a broad smile.

“Oh, yeah, of course. Firstly, we can do a database scan and see if we can find any files that match your description. If that doesn't work, we can take your story to the media and seek help from them,” the man replied.

“Great!” Jarod answered for me. “Now, I hate to do this, but I have to get to the hospital, so am I safe to leave Ro with you? You have my contact information, right? Even if her family is found and Ro is reunited with them, she still won't be able to come home right away, because she'll need to come back to the hospital for memory revival work, so please call me as soon as progress has been made.”

“I'll make sure it happens,” the guy nodded.

“Alright. I'll see you later, Ro. Best of luck!” Jarod exclaimed.

Then, he swept out the door and I was left in the station by myself. I turned awkwardly back to the guy behind the desk and gave him a small smile. He couldn't have been much older than 22, with dark hair and brown eyes.

“Hey, do you want to come back with me and go see Bellmont? He's basically the tech nerd, so he'll be able to run that database scan for us. If you're in our system or anyone has filed a missing persons report on someone matching your description, we'll be able to figure out who you are. If not, we can send out a media release that describes your situation and hopefully your family will see it. Now, we obviously will not be able to release you to anyone except for directly to your legal guardian, and we'll have to make sure that they actually are that before releasing you, but it will happen . . . eventually.”

I let out a bit of a laugh. “Oh, goody.”

“By the way, I'm officer Mills, but you can call me Braum,” he introduced himself.

I tilted my head to the side as we entered into the back room which was alive with men and women at desks and in offices, wearing blue police uniforms. “Braum? I like it. Although it admittedly makes me think of Stoker.”

“If only I had a book that sold that well. I would never have to work again.” He sighed dramatically.

I grinned. We walked up to one of the desks and Braum smiled at the brown-haired man with glasses who sat at the desk hunched behind a computer.

“Hey, Bellmont. We need to do a database search,” Braum explained.

“Alright, shoot,” Bellmont said, leaning over his computer keys.

“We're looking for any missing person reports that involve the key words 'brown, wavy hair,' 'brown eyes' and 'Ro.'” Braum ticked off each point with his fingers.

Bellmont's fingers flew across the keys. “There are zero matches. Sorry, Ro.”

I shrugged it off, even though I could feel my stomach sinking.

“Well that's okay,” Braum jumped in. “In that case, we'll send out a media release. Bellmont, can you say something along the lines of 'teenage girl, around seventeen years of age, found in Battery Park last night. She is suffering from amnesia. Brown hair, brown eyes and answers to Ro. Please call if you have any information about who she may be or where her family is and how they can be contacted.”

“Answers to Ro?” I repeated. “I'm not a dog!”

“I'll change what I wrote,” Bellmont laughed.

“Sorry,” Braum muttered.

I let out a huffy little breath, but forgave him anyways.

“There, it's been sent. It will be out in the news within a few minutes and within the next half hour we should begin getting phone tips. I'm not going to lie, though, most of them are probably going to be duds,” Belmont told me.

I nodded. “Okay. Now what do we do?”

Braum shrugged. “We wait. Do you know how to play Go Fish?”

“Yeah. . . .” I laughed.

“In that case, I challenge you to a game of Go Fish,” Braum exclaimed childishly.

I leaned in to Bellmont. “Is he actually a cop, or is this all just a hoax?”

“What can I say? He's a rookie, and basically still a kid,” he grinned.

“Excuse me, but I am an exceptional cop,” Braum defended.

I nodded. “Well, exceptional cop, I accept your challenge. Let's play.”