I'll Scream Later (No Series) Read Online Free PDF Page B

home, my dad spotted a sign that offered helicopter rides for a few dollars. He says, “I stopped the car and went and got tickets to take Marlee and Liz up in this helicopter. I give each of them a ticket, and these two girls are crying like you can’t believe. I told them. ‘You’ve got to be brave and do it once. If you don’t like it, you never have to do it again.’ And they’re crying but they get in, and of course Marlee, she loved it.”
    Over and over he would demand, try it just once, see if you like it. And I would. And often the “thing,” whatever it was, that I feared the most turned into something I would come to love. I have to believe my dad’s habit of putting me in those situations, then forcing me to face my fears, to push past them, helped me learn to believe in myself, that I could do anything—including one day tackling Hollywood.
    One thing I refused to tackle, though, was an inflatable trampoline that my brother Eric and his new girlfriend, Gloria, got for my fifth birthday. At first I loved it and spent hours jumping on it the day I got it. That night when I went to sleep, I dreamed it turned into an octopus, and I flipped out! I wouldn’t go near it, convinced that it would swallow me whole. Not even my dad could coax me into this one. I don’t remember feeling quite as frightened by a nightmare as a child ever again. Gloria remembers that trampoline as her introduction to the family—a rocky start to say the least.
    The trampoline didn’t stay, but Gloria did. She became like a big sister to me, hanging around our house more than her own, eventually marrying Eric, which was such a good thing because I loved Gloria so. There have been difficult moments in my life sincethen when I’ve needed someone I could count on, and Gloria has often been the first person I’ve called.
    She was always so patient with me. When I was younger, she would sit on the bed and let me brush her long, beautiful hair for hours. She shared her Glamour and Cosmo magazines. We even cooked together. It fit that we all soon began calling her Glo—she does. Great catch, Eric!

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    M ORTON G ROVE , I LLINOIS , and my street in particular, was a great place to grow up. Our house had five bedrooms and three bathrooms.
    Eric and Marc and I shared a bathroom with two sinks and a big mirror. I would take over the bathroom for hours at a time acting out stories in the mirror—that girl could understand everything I said!
    Though it drove my brothers crazy, because literally hours would go by, it would be my first training ground for performing. I created sad faces, happy ones, angry ones. I told stories to the girl in the mirror, I learned how every part of the face and body could communicate emotions, feelings.
    One of the exercises that my acting coach Jim Carrington would give me on Children of a Lesser God was to work on scenes in front of a mirror. When he said that, I knew I was home free—that I could do it.
    In many ways I was an ordinary kid. I loved Play-Doh, Barbies, Silly Putty, jumping jacks, and balls that bounced—the higher the better. I especially loved a Mrs. Beasley doll, whose claim to fame was that she could talk. Again and again I would pull the string that made the magical Mrs. Beasley sounds. Even though I couldn’t hear her, I knew she was talking to me.
    There were always crayons and coloring books, though I would get frustrated when I couldn’t stay inside the lines. It wasn’t conformity I was seeking but perfection. I wanted the pictures to be beautiful.
    Every week my dad would bring home comic books—Archiecomics Veronica and Betty were my favorites—and candy. I especially loved Marathon bars, a wonderfully chewy chocolate and caramel twist in a bright red wrapper.

    Me and Mrs. Beasley

    For all the hours I spent inside, I spent more outside, roaming a neighborhood filled with kids. There were football games, roller hockey, baseball, and softball. Bob Michels, who’d turn into a