Don’t Let Granny Get Your Goat… Or Your Books

When I am about fifteen, my cousin is supposed to take me to the anime and manga convention in a bigger town. I am living in the countryside. I am really excited to go since I just adore watching anime and reading manga. And I am doing some cosplaying, so I am really hoping to bring one of my costumes to the party. The only small problem is money. Since it isn’t a super big convention, it is quite expensive to get the tickets, food, and have some fun there.

Fortunately, I have a bunch of schoolbooks from the past few years of learning and I know a place where you can sell these during the summer in order for somebody to buy them cheaper than in the shop. I can’t get their whole value back for selling these, but it will definitely be enough for convention and then some. I start stacking up all the books, and when my granny asks me what I am doing — she lives with me — I explain where I’m going, what the convention is, and how selling these books will help me cover my expenses. I am really happy to tell her all about the fun things that I will be able to do for three days there.

Then, she tells me a little story about herself.

Grandmother: “When I was ten, I really wanted to have a goat because my friend had a little one and I thought it was really cute. I asked my rich aunt to give me money. My aunt agreed without even asking questions, and she told me exactly where I could buy a small goat. But when I went home to tell my mom about that idea, she snatched the money from my hand and told me that it was not going to happen because we needed to buy food, clothes, etc., not a goat for fun.”

I think that she’s trying to tell me that she is sad that she couldn’t have such fun as a kid. I tell her that I’m feeling sorry for her and don’t think much more of it. I have no idea what is coming.

The next day, when I am supposed to go sell my books, they are gone; they all just disappeared. I immediately get scared that now I can’t go anywhere, but I decide not to panic and just ask everyone in the house what happened to my things. My dad has no idea, nor my brother. I finally confront my grandmother.

Me: “Granny, what happened to those schoolbooks I was going to sell?”

Grandmother: “I have no idea. Someone must have picked them up and hidden them somewhere.”

Me: “I asked literally everyone and no one knows what happened to them. Besides, I already can see on your face that you’re just trying to avoid my questions.”

Grandmother: “Why do you even need these old books?”

Me: “What do you mean? I told you yesterday exactly why I need them.”

Grandmother: “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She is acting like our talk never happened and my books never existed. I tell my dad about it. He tells me to forgive her because she’s old and may really not remember that — I know her personality really well and I KNOW that she is just lying to me — and to not worry because he will give me some money. That cheers me up a bit but I am still upset that the books I was about to sell are just gone. We aren’t any kind of rich, so Dad can give me money for tickets and some food, but there is no extra for buying souvenirs, doing lotteries, etc. I was really hoping for that since I was supposed to use only my own money.

After some time, I completely forgot about that accident until I went to my granny’s backyard while helping with something in spring. I looked to the old doghouse because I spotted something weird inside with the corner of my eye. Yup. All my books. All destroyed by the rains, winter, etc. Useless.

I love my grandmother but I still can’t forgive her that she stole my stuff, hoping that I would never go to the dreamed convention just because she couldn’t fulfill her own dream when she was small. I still went there, I still had fun with my cousin, but you know… I was still lied to.