‘Oof!’
For the fi ft h time, Fizza’s dad threw her over his back and
onto the grass.
‘Ow! I wasn’t ready, Dad!’ she cried.
‘Th at’s no excuse, Fizza! You must always be ready!’ replied
her father. ‘You might be a girl – but it doesn’t stop you from
being as brave as a man.’
Fizza picked herself up from the ground and faced her
judo teacher. Imran McIntyre was half-Scottish, half-Pakistani
and one hundred percent crazy. Th ey had been practising judo
for over an hour in the late aft ernoon sunshine and she was
getting really tired now. However, she still managed to take her
dad by surprise. Although she was feeling weak, she suddenly
ran at him and threw him to the ground.
‘Fizza! Leave your poor father alone!’ called her mother
from the house. ‘Anyway, it’s time for tea.’
‘Th anks, Rubel! You saved me from the crazy judo kid!’
said Imran.
He got up and took Fizza’s hand and, laughing together,
they went into the house.
It was Th ursday, so Fizza knew what her mum had made
for tea. Every week it was the same, because it was her dad’s
favourite meal.
‘Oh no, I hate fi sh curry!’ thought Fizza as she sat down at
the table.
Th e fi sh curry was always so hot it set her mouth on fi re –
and she hated fi sh. However, to keep her mum and dad happy,
she ate her food without complaining.