Notes Wow, over a year, huh? I'm such a slacker. I admit, I've lost a bit of feel/interest for this story, but I also do feel bad about having left it unfinished while starting on something else, so I thought I'd try to get a bit out. Maybe it will inspire me again. Who knows? Merry Christmas and all.

Chapter Thirteen

"Max, I love you," Emma said.

"It's just the blood talking, darling," he replied, placing a kiss on her forehead.

"Maybe so, but that's still how I feel." Emma grinned up at Max. She was definitely feeling better than she had been in days, all thanks to his blood.

"And thanks to Courtney, too – who is standing right outside the door."

Emma giggled and got up to let Courtney into the room. As soon as she opened the door, she threw her arms around the blonde girl. "I don't think I can ever thank you enough!"

"I still don't really understand your choice," Courtney said, "But--"

"It's my choice to make," Emma finished.

Courtney settled herself onto her bed. "Are you a vampire now, then?"

Emma shook her head.

"One more exchange will do it," said Max, "as soon as possible. Then Emma will die. I'll be around to make sure that all the details of her burial are taken care of, and then a few days later once the change is complete, I'll dig her up."

"It sounds so morbid," Courtney mused, "When are you going to do this, then?"

Emma thought a moment. "There's the dance tomorrow night. If I sneak out early, no one should notice us. And we can finish this stuff."

Tomorrow I'm going to die, she thought, shivers running up and down her spine.

"That sounds like the best thing to do," Courtney agreed.

"Tomorrow, then," said Max. If he had been wearing a hat, Emma could have imagined him tipping it then, but instead he had to settle for a wink and a smile, and left in his mysterious vampire way.

That evening, Emma started completing all sorts of last minute tasks. These were things that needed to be done, of course, to tie up the loose ends there would surely be. Notes to her stepfather and –brothers, Raquel, etc, all along the lines of "if you're reading this, I'm dead."

The one to her mom was definitely the hardest. Emma chewed on the pen for quite a bit before finally writing:

"Dear Mom,

It's weird writing this to you knowing that if you're reading this, I'm no longer here. I'm really sorry things had to turn out this way.

Please don't worry about me, though. I'm fine. I know things are going to be hard for you, but everything's worked out for the best for me. And you have Mark and Sean and Kristen and Michael. Let them help you, Mom.

I love you so much, and hopefully depending on how things work, I may see you again someday.

Love,

Your 'Annie'"

With that letter, Emma put her voice to work and had Courtney help her record a tape of Christmas songs. Yes, it was a bit odd to be singing Christmas songs in June, but her mom had always liked them, and since Emma was a Christmas baby – well, it worked.

"I'll be home for Christmas/if only in my dreams," Emma sang to finish off her tape. That song had always been her favorite, and now it seemed to mean even more to her. Home for Christmas. How she wished she could be.

"Are you ready for this?" Courtney asked her.

"No."

But then, would she ever be? "Sometimes you just have to take the plunge, ready or not," she added.

"Suppose that's true."

A bit later, the girls were all crowded into the room getting ready for the dance. Lacey, Katie Martel's blonde friend had been peering in all the rooms in the hall and offering to help. At the moment, she was brushing baby blue eye shadow on Courtney.

"You look gorgeous," Lacey was telling her, "like a real princess."

"She's good with make-up," said Chelsea, who was leaning against the doorframe.

"I do consider it my specialty," Lacey grinned, "Like Emma over there, she'd look really good in shades of pink. Up to being my next victim?"

Emma wrinkled her nose. "Pink? Nuh-uh, you've got my look all wrong." With that, Emma started pulling smoky grays and bolder reds out of her bag, along with some loose curlers, "My best friend taught me how to do myself up really well."

So while Courtney was being transformed into a china doll, Emma loosely waved her long brown hair and applied make-up until she'd achieved her desired result. Smoky eyes, red lips and a definite Latina air.

"Okay, NOW I believe you're Mexican," Adora laughed. Even Lacey had to agree that it did suit her.

"Never would have thought to play it up like that."

Emma grinned. She looked good. Not a bad look at all for her last night alive.

And a few minutes later, they were off.

The dance was a dance. Emma would have liked it better if Max could have been there, but knowing he would be waiting back in her room made it worthwhile. It was interesting to see all the people she had gotten to know the past couple weeks all dressed up. She danced a couple of times, ate a bit of food and chatted with friends. But soon enough, it was getting close to the time she was planning to meet Max.

"I'm a bit tired," she told Susanna, smoothing out her orange dress. "I'm going to head to bed a bit early."

"Have a good sleep, then," Susanna told her, and like that, Emma was free from the dance.

She took deep breaths of the clear, cool air on the way back to her room. Pretty soon, her blood wasn't going to be able to support oxygen anymore, and breathing like this wouldn't really be an option anymore.

All right, she needed to get this done before the other kids started coming back from the dance.

"Wow," was all Max was able to say as Emma entered the room.

She grinned. "You like?"

"Si!"

"Oh, Max." She sat down on her bed, grinning.

He sat beside her and pushed a loose wave back. "Are you ready?"

Everyone kept asking her that. "I guess as ready as I'll ever be."

And so with that he bit, and the two minds merged once more in perfect unison. A few minutes later, he offered his own wrist for Emma, who drank, feeling more and more sleepy with each passing minute.

"It's really happening, isn't it?" she whispered, "I'm dying."

"You'll be back in a few days," said Max, laying her against the pillow, "And I'll be the first thing you'll see."

"I'd like that," she murmured, her lips getting heavier with every word. Part of her was scared, but Max was here and he said she was safe and – well, part of her did feel secure, floating in a bed of warmth, coaxing her to close her eyes and sleep. And so she did.

And with that, Emmanuelle Sage Kinney died.