And you won’t get any better at judo unless you practise!’ said her dad.
Fizza sighed4 deeply. It was always the same thing. Her mum thought she used her computer too much and her dad thought that she should be an Olympic judo champion.
Fizza’s dad thought that judo was the most important thing in the world. When he wasn’t practising it, he was talking about it. He had taken up judo as a small boy and eventually he had become National Champion of Scotland. However, Fizza did not love it as much as her dad.
‘Actually Fizza, I think you’re really making progress now,’ he said. ‘You’ll be a champion yet! But I’ve told you before, you should join a judo club!’
Once again Fizza sighed. She didn’t mind practising in the garden, but she didn’t want to join a judo club because judo wasn’t ‘cool’. Her best friend Babs didn’t do judo and nor did any of the other ‘cool’ girls.
‘Dad! Are you crazy?’ she said.
‘I’m sorry?’ said her father.
‘You teach me everything. What else can a club teach me?’
said Fizza.
Imran laughed at this sweet talk and Fizza jumped up
from the table.
‘Come on, old man. Let’s have a race to the garden – and
I promise I’ll be gentle with you!’
***
At about six thirty, the doorbell rang.
‘Fizza!’ her mum called up the stairs. ‘Babs is here!’
Fizza ran down the stairs. Her friend was waiting for her
in the hall.
‘Hi, Babs!’ she said.