A hero does not have to be strong, or muscular, instead, a hero can be an ordinary person. For example, me, a 15 year old girl who would be quickly swallowed up in the crowd when walking on the street. I remember at the end of eighth grade, I was celebrating with my friends after the final week. The exams were not even that nauseating with the dependable companion. However, when I came home full of happiness and release, I saw an envelope quietly lying on my desk. I opened and started reading with curiosity. A folded letter fell down as I opened the envelope. I read quickly and silently, frowning. I froze with my mouth hanging open when received this sudden “surprise”, which was a trip to the United States two weeks later, all by myself. I rushed into my parents’ bedroom, glared at both of them with burning, reproachful eyes. I was so furious that I could not even control my voice. I flung the letter on the ground and raised my voice:”Is this real? Is this what you want?” I could hear my voice trembled, on the verge of tears. My mom looked at me, the twinkled in her eyes were dimmed by tears. “We are sorry Keer,” she hesitated, “We think this is good for both you and your sister. ” I felt scalding tears poured down my face as I slammed the door and shouted:”You always give me what you think is the best, but you never give me anything I want. I don’t want to go!” I ran to my bed laid down crying; the pillow went wet with my tears. I broke down, sobbed aloud and finally fell in a fitful