I don't believe it. Last week it was 'The Best Day of my Life' and now it's this. Why can't Mr Thoms have more imagination?
Groaning inwardly, Jaz rolled her eyes, and hoped for inspiration.
OK. Let's see now. The day I lost my Barbie doll. I was only seven, but I remember the pain. Or the day I tripped over in front of the whole football team. No, I don't want the entire universe to know about that.
The day old Rexie died was pretty awful. I still miss his great big eyes and waggy tail. He was a lovely dog.
I know! The day Dad lost his job. No, that was his worst day. Anyway, he wasn't out of work long.
The day I missed out on getting into the national-swimming team by three lousy rotten seconds. They don't come much worse than that.
There's so much to choose from. My life is full of worst days. This one's not so good either. Now I think of it, I've had a terrible life.
Jaz looked over at her friend Elyse, who was adjusting her wheelchair to be closer to the desk. Injuries from a car accident last month meant she would be like this for another six weeks. She watched as Elyse started writing. She wrote without pausing, quickly filling the lines.
Jaz turned back to her own desk, lowered her eyes and started writing: Three days after I turned seven, I took Crystal, my Barbie doll, out on a picnic ...