Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.

A/N: Obviously, this is a little AU. I tried to make this authentically Italian- hopefully it is. This is a bit happier than the others, but...well, you're going to have to read it to find out.

Mamma doesn't like to talk about where we came from.

That's fine with me. As far as I can see, my home is in Volterra. Mamma and Papá live here, and so does my cousin Rachel. Rachel's old enough to be my aunt, but Mamma said I don't have any aunts or uncles.

She went white the day I asked her if I had an uncle. She asked me why I thought I did.

"I'm not sure," I said. "But I think I remember, dimly, calling someone an uncle back when I was little."

Mamma said I didn't have any uncles, and that we left because of some bad men, but I wasn't to talk to anyone about that. Besides, Papá had always planned to move to Italy anyway.

I love Volterra. This is where I've grown up, where all my friends are. I don't ever want to leave- I'm going to go to college here. Mamma says that's a long way in the future, and that sixth grade is a little early to think of these things.

But sometimes, when there's nothing else to do, I sit and look at the little picture of the reservation that I was born on. I asked Rachel once, and she said that it was a small, dirty, poor town and that we left so I could have a future.

"A future?" I asked.

"Yes," said Rachel. "Your parents wanted you to grow up in the best possible place."

"That's Volterra!" I said, grinning. A sad smile came over Rachel's face.

"Yes," she said. "Yes, it is."

I like Rachel. She never patronizes me, like my Papá's co-workers. They think patronize is too big a vocabulary word for a sixth grader like me. Rachel says that I'm precocious, that I remind her of herself. Rachel's a lawyer, a good lawyer. She never takes up any cases that will get her known internationally though. She says that Italy is plenty big enough for her.

Someday I'm going to be a lawyer too. I'm going to get fancy business cards made, and where her cards say "Rachel Marino" mine are going to say "Claire Rossi." Mamma just laughed when I told her that, and said that I had plenty of time to change my mind.

Rachel brought her boyfriend over for dinner yesterday. Rachel is normally sensible, but I caught them kissing. They both burst out laughing at the expression of disgust on my face. I sulked about it for a while, but gave up after Rachel ignored my sulking.

---

Today, Mamma assigned me to make dinner on my own. I was so excited when I first learned about it, but now I'm wondering if I should have accepted her offer of help. I'm internally debating the uses of olives when the doorbell rings.

Mamma calls that she'll get it and she goes to the door. I add garlic to the pot on the left and then start to panic. Did I put it in the wrong one? I'm making Rachel's favorite meal; she's coming over tonight (without her boyfriend) and I want it to be perfect.

Mamma still hasn't said hello to the person at the door, which is strange. I wipe my hands and go over to the front entrance to see what's wrong.

Mamma is standing in front of the door, her skin pale as a sheet. The lady standing outside sees me and smiles. As she turns her head, she reveals three long scars on the side of her face.

---

Mamma is sitting in the living room with the lady and I'm back to making dinner. I know I'm not supposed to make fast judgments (Papá is always telling me this) but I don't like this lady. Mamma sure seemed shocked to see her.

When Rachel arrives, I leap for the door before Mamma can get there and lock it.

"Rachel," I whisper. "You won't guess what happened-"

"Emily," says Rachel, with a dangerous gleam in her eye. I turn around and see the strange lady standing in the hallway.

"Rachel," she says. "I haven't seen you for some time."

---

I've finished making dinner, but it's been left cold. I tried to join the conversation in the living room, but I was told to go do my homework. Once the door is closed, I sit outside it. I know it's wrong, but I need to know what's happening, why the grown-ups are acting so different.

"I've come alone," says Emily to the other two.

"Alone?" asks Rachel, not sounding very convinced. "Not even Sam?"

"Sam is dead." I hear a gasp, then silence. Finally, Mamma speaks.

"And Paul? Quil?"

"I never thought I would ever hear you eager for someone to be dead."

"Emily..."

"But you're not the same person anymore, are you? My sister. Except you're not."

"Emily...I missed you."

"Missed you too. Except you didn't."

And now we come to a close. Unless I write an epilogue that isn't a cliff-hanger. What do you think? Should I?

Review please!