This was the day I was waiting for, the day my ideas would come to fruition.

Student Associations were today, and I had a great idea. No, I had the best idea. The dream that had been fermenting in the back of my head for years now finally had a means to escape, and I couldnt be happier. This year was my year, the year that I would finally do something. I had known it since the first day the program was announced. I remembered it as more clearly that breakfast The classroom was cramped and loud, like some sort of zoo. Kids babbled all around me as I sat on a desk, scowling. Nothing was worth spending more time than necessary in Ms. Abrams room. Not even this Student Associations thing. It was probably some sort of community service scam. The school always needed more people to pick up trash. I sighed. This sucked. Suddenly, a piercing whistle blast sliced the air in two, immediately silencing the bedlam. Everyone shut up when they heard Ms. Abrams Death Whistle. We all watched as the short, platinum blonde woman trotted to the front of the class. While I hated her, Ms. Abrams knew how to command a room. Now, children, she said, her smile a leer, we have an exciting new program for you. You could practically hear the eyes rolling from around the room; I was not alone in my disgust. Undeterred, Ms. Abrams continued, This year, we have decided to introduce Student Associations. This is an exciting opportunity for you, as students, to take charge in the school community. Each Association will be given a faculty adviser, and the ability to hold fundraisers for your project. Please note than Associations are not clubs, and must do a service to the school. We will create Associations at next weeks meeting. Some examples of Associations are: helping staff, cleaning the campus, raising school spirit But I was off. The idea I had held for years now was finally about to be realized. It performed a service to the school sort of. Maybe. But that wasnt important, because everyone would love it. I sat back in my chair, smiling with the satisfaction that I would finally make an impact. I was jolted back to reality by some kids talking next to me about an Association that would create compost for the school and use it on the trees near the main building. I wrinkled my nose, thinking about how horrible it would smell. Who wanted rotting food in front of their school? As I sat quietly, I realized that all the other ideas were just as bad. I needed my idea to work out. I might just collapse if it didnt. I sat on the same desk as before, just barely clearing everyone elses heads despite the fact that I was sitting rater high up. I scowled as I peered around an especially tall boy; my height had always been my shortcoming. I glanced from the board to the door, my eyes growing tired as they strained to complete their circuit. I tapped my finger on the desk, picking out a tuneless melody. Come on, I muttered, lets go. I couldnt wait, not any longer. I needed to put my plan in motion, now. Finally, Ms. Abrams walked through the door, her glasses swinging slightly from their chain. As she stepped in, the room fell silent, hoping she wouldnt take out that horrible whistle again. Ms. Abrams took her time walking to the front of the room, her hair bouncing slightly. It would have been funny, except that her face had the most horrifying fake smile I had ever seen. It kind of ruined the effect. She turned and faced us, glancing at the door to make sure nobody had run out. All right, are there any ideas for Student Associations? she said, looking down at all of us. She somehow managed to do that, despite the fact that she was barely taller than I was. I could see her roots from my vantage point and wondered where she got her hair done. I made a mental note never to set foot inside the place. I glanced around quickly, looking for competition. Nobody else was saying anything, so I took my chance. Narrowing my eyes at Ms. Abrams, I shot my hand up in the air, nearly dislocating

my shoulder. After a brief spasm of pain, my arm stood there, swaying slightly, like a buoy in the water. Ms. Abrams glanced up at me, and I could feel the frustration in her voice. Yes Kelly? Even her Kelly sneer couldnt deter me from my mission. Taking a deep breath, I belted out the speech I had practiced in front of the mirror last night instead of doing math homework. Whats greater than plays? I asked, looking to rouse the crowd. They were not roused. An acting association, of course. Still, no excitement. They must be waiting for the finale. And the only thing better than that is a peer-run acting association, right? My confidence was beginning to falter, but I had to push through. We would direct, act in, and produce all of our own plays. It would be for the entertainment of the school. I sat up straight despite my red face, and waited for the verdict. Ms. Abrams clucked softly in disdain. Im sorry Kelly, but that wont work for this school program. You arent helping anybody with that. Maybe next time. Her insincere look of disappointment made me scowl as she turned to someone else. I couldnt protest the decision. The verdict was made; the judge sentenced murder. My head hung, and I could feel hot tears of disappointment well up behind my eyes. I didnt make any attempt to hide them, especially when I heard the dumb that replaced mine. I understood (yet still couldnt bring myself to enjoy) the Litter Patrol Association, but why on earth was the Preschool Assistance Association approved? They werent even going to be at the school- the preschool was down the road. Finally, the lunch bell rang, and I smiled at the high point of Associations today. Making no effort to push against the crowd, I let the tide of people carry me into the cafeteria. I had never had a worse quesadilla day. I sighed morosely at the fact that Ms. Abrams had even ruined my favorite lunch. Lifes not fair, I thought as I stabbed at the quesadilla. At least, not for me. When lunch was finally over, I dropped my plate onto a pile with the rest, and walked over aimlessly to the bathroom. It wasnt like I had anywhere else to go. Maybe I could finally cry my bitter tears of disappointment. I looked in the mirror, crossing my arms at my equally upset reflection. I pushed back a stray hair, and when I returned to the mirror, I saw a glob of white there. Ick. But if it was not for that tiny glob of sour cream, I would never have found the note, never have seen the thing that changed my life forever. It wasnt anything special, just a Post-It stuck to the paper towels. It wasnt even a cool post-it, with a border or bright colors. It was just plain white, with three words written in shining green ink. I ripped it off, and read the words:

Follow Your Heart.