All I've Never Wanted

by Ana Huang

  “Miss Perry, Miss Lindberg, Miss France, please follow me,” she said, leading us down a long hallway.

  She showed us all into different rooms, explaining that “Miss Perry” had pre-booked different treatments for the three of us. I had gotten something called the Tahitian Goddess package, with included a manicure, pedicure, facial, body treatment, and 50-minute massage, all in a section of the spa that looked like, well, Tahiti.

  Now, I don't consider myself a particularly materialistic person, but I had to admit, this treatment was nice. More than nice. I wondered briefly what it would be like to have so much money, to be able to buy whatever I wanted and go wherever I wanted without a second thought. I immediately dismissed it.

  Sure, it'd be nice to have a private jet and weekly spa days and a closet full of Gucci and Prada, but if it meant I had even the slightest chance of turning into a typical Valesca rich-girl clone, then no thank you. I’ll stick to land transportation and H&M like a normal person.

  “Which color would you like, Miss Lindberg?” my pedicurist asked kindly, handing me a book filled with literally hundreds of nail colors by OPI, Essie, and Lippmann Collection.

  “Whoa, this is a lot,” I murmured, a bit overwhelmed.

  Finally, though, I settled for a gorgeous deep burgundy. It seemed appropriate for fall.

  By the time I received my Swedish massage, I was admittedly a million times more relaxed and refreshed than before.

  Venice was right. The masseuses here were good.

  Unfortunately, just as I was about to doze off, a loud knock on the door interrupted the tranquility. A moment later, the door swung open with a bang.

  Letting out a surprised scream, I instinctively shot up from the massage table. Oh my god, was the spa being robbed or something?

  No. It was much worse.

  My jaw dropped when I saw Roman standing there. He was holding a bright pink handbag, for some reason.

  “Wh-what are you doing here?” I stuttered.

  He didn’t respond, and just stared at me with a rather stunned and embarrassed look on his face, which was flaming red.

  I frowned. What reason did he have to be embarrassed?

  Then I looked down, and gasped when I realized that I had to take my top off for the massage. Which meant that when I got up, there was nothing covering my torso. Which meant I was currently topless in front of Roman Fiori.

  And that was when I really screamed.

  * * *

  “It was just a huge misunderstanding. My fault, really,” Adriana said, not sounding repentant enough for my liking as she walked up the little stone path that led to my house.

  “Can we not talk about it?” I felt like the redness would never fade from my face, which was bad, because then my grandmother was really going to think I’d been up to “kinky stuff.”

  “Ok,” Adriana chirped, sounding suspiciously like she was trying not to laugh. “That’ll teach me not to leave my Hermés behind anymore.”

  “What I really want to know—“ I jammed my key into the lock. “—is how Roman ended up barging into my room.”

  “I must’ve texted him the wrong room number,” Adriana answered innocently. “My bad.”

  “Hmph.”

  Likely story. Adriana was way too much of a perfectionist to get something like that wrong. She was up to something, I just didn’t know what. I was pretty sure I didn’t like it, though.

  Still, I suppose I had to forgive her, since she had come up with a brilliant idea to save me the embarrassment of needing a babysitter while my parents were away. Hence, the reason why she was at my house right now.

  “Whoa.” Adriana sucked in a breath as she stared at the living room, which looked like a tornado had just blown through it. “What is going on?”

  “My grandmother is packing,” I answered matter-of-factly, sidestepping a stack of boxed ginseng.

  Every time my grandmother visits, she somehow manages to accumulate two extra suitcases full of unnecessary…stuff, which she a) handed out to her friends back home, b) used to brag about her travel adventures, c) sold on eBay for twice its listing price, or d) all of the above (she had a tendency to take back gifts from people who offended her).

  “Really?” Adriana picked up a skimpy black negligee, looking horrified. “This…is your grandmother’s?”

  “Ew.” I whimpered, snatching the negligee from her hand and stuffing it under a sofa pillow so I didn’t have to look at it. “No! I guess my mom is packing too.”

  I resisted the urge to gag. That was just gross. No daughter should have to see her mother’s lingerie.

  “Maya! You home, honey?” My mom entered the living room, panting slightly as she set a giant cardboard box onto the floor with a small groan.

  “Hey, mom. What’s going on?”

  “Oh, just some cleaning and packing,” she replied cheerfully.

  “Your grandmother’s in the kitchen.” She lowered her voice. “I think she’s cleaning out our sausage supply.”

  “No problem here.” I shrugged. I was more of a bacon girl.

  “Oh, you brought a new friend!” my mom exclaimed happily when she finally noticed Adriana. She held out her hand. “Hi, I’m Maya’s mom.”

  “Good evening, Mrs. Lindberg,” Adriana said politely, shaking my mom’s hand with her own freshly manicured one. “I’m Adriana.”

  “Oh, please, call me Shelley. Mrs. Lindberg makes me sound so old.” My mom made a face. “I’m so sorry about the mess, it’s usually not like this. Things are just a bit hectic this week.”

  “I think Maya may have mentioned that to me earlier. You and Mr. Lindberg are going to Napa Valley?”

  My mom nodded, a grin lighting up her face.

  I swallowed, the tension coming back into my muscles as guilt took over again. I hated lying to her, but I hated hurting her more. Hopefully, my dad had been telling the truth and wouldn’t do it again.

  I would never forgive him if he did.

  “I have a family friend who owns a vineyard there. They hold some amazing wine tastings a few times a year, and I believe they’re actually planning one for next week. I could put in a call and reserve a spot for you if you would like,” Adriana offered.

  Wow, that was pretty generous of her. I knew she was trying to butter my mom up, but still.

  “Oh, no, I couldn’t…” My mom’s voice trailed off. We could all see she really wanted to say yes. “It’s too much trouble.”

  “It’s no trouble at all,” Adriana laughed. “I just have to make a call. What do you say? It’ll make your trip really unforgettable.”

  “Well…” my mom bit her lip. “If it’s convenient for you, then I suppose it would be nice.”

  “Great, I’ll call them now. Please excuse me for a minute.”

  Adriana shot me a meaningful look as she stepped outside to make the call.

  I gulped, as my mom started sifting through the items in the cardboard box. Here goes nothing. “So, mom, about the babysitter thing…”

  She sighed, pulling out a stack of dusty guidebooks. Where had those come from? “I know what you’re going to say, sweetie, but unfortunately, your father and I have already made up our minds. Now, you know I trust you, but your grandmother is right. It’s very dangerous for a girl to stay by herself for two weeks.”

  “You’re right.”

  My mom stopped and stared at me in surprise. “I am?”

  I nodded vigorously. “Yep. It is dangerous for me to stay here all alone. I don’t think a babysitter is the solution, though. I mean, not only is it incredibly expensive to hire someone to watch over me for that long, but who knows if the babysitter is even, um, trustworthy? Besides, I’m guessing it’s going to be a girl, and two girls aren’t safer than one, really.”

  “I suppose you have a point,” she reluctantly agreed. She eyed me suspiciously. “And I’m guessing you’ve come up with a solution?”

  I beamed. “Now that you mention it, I have.” I tried to so
und casual. “Like Adriana said, I was talking to her about it earlier, and she suggested that I just stay over at her house for the next two weeks. It’ll be like an extended sleepover.”

  My mom frowned.

  Before she could say anything, I quickly added, “Think about it. It’ll be so much safer and better than a babysitter. Her house has security that would put the Pentagon to shame, and there’s always staff around, anyway. Besides, we go to school together, so I can even get a ride to and from Valesca without having to walk. And you don’t have to worry about me trying to cook at home and burning the kitchen down.”

  My mom winced a little, obviously remembering the time I’d tried to scramble eggs and ended up setting the pan on fire instead.

  “I don’t know, won’t you be intruding? What will her parents say? Two weeks is so much hassle…”

  “Oh, it’s no hassle at all, Shelley,” Adriana said smoothly, suddenly materializing again. “My parents have already agreed, and honestly, I would love to have Maya stay over for two weeks.” She smiled. “It’ll be like having a sister.”

  I held my breath, watching the indecision play over my mother’s face. “I’ll have to think about it,” she finally said. “I’ll talk to your father and get back to you later.”

  Yes! That was a total yes! Once my mom says she’ll “think about it,” it was as good as done.

  “Thank you, mom, thank you, thank you, thank you,” I gushed, running over to give her a hug.

  She laughed, waving me off. “All right, you troublemaker you. Why don’t you go in the kitchen and help your grandmother sort out what she needs?”

  “Ok,” I said happily. I would’ve agreed to anything now that I didn’t need a babysitter.

  I bounded into the kitchen, where I saw my grandmother standing on her tippy-toes on a chair, pulling down a can of sardines I didn’t even know we had.

  “Grandma! Let me do it,” I called. “You might get hurt.”

  “I fine,” she said impatiently, dropping the can onto the counter with a clang. She hopped off the chair, surprisingly agile for her age. “Why you put fish up so high? So hard for me to reach,” she said crankily.

  She noticed Adriana. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Adriana, one of Maya’s classmates,” Adriana answered with some amusement.

  My grandmother examined Adriana head to toe, looking for a flaw to dissect. When she couldn’t find anything, she finally said, “Put hair away. Too blonde. Blinding me.”

  “So, do you need any help?” I asked, staring at the kitchen counters, which were loaded down with a mishmash of stuff.

  My grandmother shoved a can of Pillsbury cookie dough at me.

  “What this?”

  “It’s cookie dough, grandma.”

  “Cookie dough?” She looked horrified. “Why cookie dough have ghost as mascot?”

  “Ghost?” I was confused. “That’s not a ghost, it’s the Pillsbury Doughboy! It’s a really famous mascot, haven’t you seen it before?”

  She scowled. “No!” She shuddered, tossing the cookie dough into the garbage.

  I let out a whimper. That was my favorite!

  “No wonder this house have such bad energy, when you all buying stuff with ghosts,” my grandmother scolded. “You eat too much of that, you turn to ghost. Why you think people who eat so much pork not as smart as people who no eat pork? It’s because their brain slowly turn to pig’s brain.”

  I stared at her. Where did she get this stuff? “I don’t think it’s the same thing, grandma. For one, cookie dough is just…dough. It’s not meat.”

  She ignored me.

  “You become what you eat,” she lectured. “Eat more fish. It’s good for brain.”

  “But I can already swim pretty well,” I joked.

  I heard Adriana snicker beside me. Sadly, the joke was lost on my grandma. “And no more cookie dough, young lady. No wonder you gain weight.”

  I rolled my eyes. I loved my grandmother and all, but jeez, she was not good for a teenage girl’s self-esteem. Or anyone’s self-esteem, really.

  “You sure you want the sardines, grandma?” I wandered over to the counter and picked up the can of fish, wrinkling my nose. “I don’t know how long it’s been here.”

  “Good.” My grandmother cackled. “I give to Loser Weed. She deserve it, cheated me out of hundred dollars last year.”

  Loser Weed? Oh, she was talking about Rose, her biggest mah-jongg rival.

  “Blondie, help me and Maya put stuff in suitcase,” my grandmother ordered, snapping her fingers like she was a diva or something. “And no drop my stuff, or you pay!”

  I stifled a laugh, refraining from telling her Adriana had enough money to buy out all the supermarkets in town ten times over.

  I was impressed, though, when Adriana actually did as she was told. Wow. I’m pretty sure the closest she’d ever gotten to physical labor before was walking from one spa room to the next.

  I blanched a bit at my own thoughts. Wow, way to stereotype, Maya, I scolded myself.

  It took the four of us—me, Adriana, my mom, and grandmother—two hours to pack up everything into suitcases or throw them out in the garbage.

  When we were done, I collapsed onto the sofa, exhausted.

  “That was pretty fun,” Adriana said cheerily, sitting down beside me.

  I stared at her. “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah, it’s something new.”

  Huh. I think she really is serious.

  My grandmother tottered over and sat down on my other side. She frowned, then leaned over and sniffed me.

  Oook. “Grandma, what are you doing?”

  “What you do? You smell like flowers.”

  “I went to the spa earlier,” I explained.

  “Oh.” My grandmother sniffed me again. “You go to spa more often. Makes you smell better than usual.”

  My face burned as Adriana burst out laughing.

  See what I mean about my grandmother being bad for a girl’s self-esteem?

  * * *

  Zack closed his eyes, his fingers flying over the keyboard in his room as he did his cover for One Republic. “It’s too late—“

  Bang!

  Zack jumped a foot in the air, then glared at his sister, who had already jumped into his bed and was paging through his lyrics journal with a bored look on her face.

  “Adri, how many times do I have to tell you not to do that?” he complained, snatching the journal from her.

  “No matter how many times you tell me, I’m going to do it anyway.” She grinned cheekily at him. “That’s what twins are for.”

  “You should’ve just stayed at that Swiss boarding school,” he huffed, climbing in next to her. “Where were you earlier?”

  “I went to the spa, then Maya’s house,” Adriana replied casually. She held out her hand. “Isn’t this manicure fabulous?”

  “I’m not gay, Adri, stop trying to talk to me about manicures,” he groused. “What do you want?”

  She widened her eyes. “What makes you think I want anything?”

  “Well…” Zack tapped a finger on his chin. “Since we’ve been born, you’ve come into my room about a million times, and you’ve wanted something every time, so I’ll just call it a hunch.”

  “Awww.” She ruffled his hair. “I think my baby bro is getting smarter!”

  “I hate you,” he pouted.

  “No you don’t. You looove me, right?” Adriana gave him a huge hug.

  “Stop! You’re choking me!” He couldn’t help but laugh though. “All right, I promise to help you if you stop it!”

  Adriana pulled back, a mischievous look on her face. “Ok, but you promised.”

  Zack couldn’t help but be a bit scared. “What is it?”

  “I need you to help me get Maya and Roman together.”

  His jaw dropped. “What? Why?!” Zack shook his head frantically. “No way. She’s Parker’s girlfriend! I can’t just betray a friend like that.”
>
  She rolled her eyes. “I take back what I said earlier, you haven’t gotten smarter. It’s obvious they’re not really dating, genius!”

  Zack frowned. Maya and Parker seemed pretty couple-y to him. “What makes you think that?”

  “For one, I actually use my two eyes. Anyone can see they’re just friends. Ask Carlo if you don’t believe me. You and Roman are the only ones dense enough to fall for their façade.”