Read Online I'm Not Your Other Half by Caroline B. Cooney - Free Book Online

something besides books,” I suggested.
    I wasn’t thinking about anything. I wasn’t even thinking. I was just there, propped up by Miss Herschel’s desk, killing time.
    â€œSomething besides books?” she repeated.
    â€œI read about a library in New Hampshire that also loans toys. They have everything. Especially stuff that people would love to have but don’t buy because they might not use it more than once. Giant stuffed giraffes or unusual board games. And standard stuff—wooden blocks, Teddy bears, Monopoly.”
    â€œFraser! What a wonderful idea!” she cried. “Look into this at once. Set aside war temporarily. Look up toy-lending libraries and see how they did it.”
    We peacemongers are all happy to set aside war temporarily, so I dipped into the newspaper indexes to find out about toy lending.
    It was a better topic than war—but only marginally. Because somehow, between the looking-up and the talking-about and the expanding-upon, old Fraser MacKendrick became the chief administrative officer of Toybrary.
    I gave a speech to the P.T.A. and didn’t die of fear and didn’t forget any of the words, and in fact the Junior Women’s Club asked me to talk to them too. I learned how to address groups, and how not to be afraid of an audience and how to convince them to donate to my cause. My father said, “Fraser, if you never learn any other skill in your entire life, you will get good jobs, because you’ll be able to get money out of sticky club fingers.”
    Toybrary was an astonishing success. Organizing Toybrary, establishing it, advertising it were as much fun as I had ever had in my life. But from there on in, it was down hill.
    Miss Herschel was too busy to administer it. Annie surrendered to my appeals and helped, and then she convinced Susannah to pitch in too. Susannah was a help in a dim-witted sort of way, and the three of us operated Toybrary from three till eight, in overlapping shifts.
    With appalling speed, Toybrary became just another dull routine in my week.
    It was a bad season for local news (no wars in Chapman), and we were pounced upon by television, radio and newspaper. After you have been on morning talk shows, giving examples of the fine things our youth can accomplish, expounding on your imagination, community spirit and hard work, it’s embarrassing to say the following week, “Actually this is boring and I quit.”
    Nevertheless that’s just what Susannah did. She began dating Matt, and although Matt would never be number one on my list—or even number fifty—he was certainly more interesting than a Barbie Doll swimming-pool set.
    I stayed with Toybrary but I would wish that I was still just starting it; that was fun. Launching anything was always so much more interesting than actually doing it.
    Then I’d wish that I had never gotten into Toybrary at all, that I had met some fantastic eighteen-year-old with brains, manners, a sense of humor, looks, build and a classic Corvette …
    I sat at the Toybrary desk, my knees hunched near my chin, checking to be sure there were still dice in the Parcheesi game, and I thought, Five out of six isn’t bad. I have to relax about Michael. I’m not some rigid type whose life can’t expand to include new things. What kind of relationship am I going to have with him if I keep complaining and whining whenever he suggests something?
    â€œDropping out of Madrigals?” said Mrs. Ierardi. Her long thin face became longer and thinner. She regarded me as the Revolutionary troops must have looked at Benedict Arnold. “But Fraser, we need you. You’re the best low alto we’ve got.”
    Ordinarily I love compliments. This one upset me. “Really, it’s a good time for this,” I said. “We’ve finished the winter concerts, and it’s another five weeks before the spring concerts. Lots of time to audition more