Disclaimer-I DO NOT OWN NARNIA! If I did why would I need to write fan fiction? Huh? That's what I thought. I also do not own Edmund(wahhh!). But I do own Clara Nightshade

I HAVE NOT READ THE BOOKS! However, I have read the wikipedia article that covers all the books. I have also seen both movies (the first was okay, but the second was AMAZING! My, my, Skandar Keynes has grown up.)

From the moment she woke up, Clara Nightshade could tell that it was not going to be a good day for her. She could tell so soon because she woke up at four in the morning and the power was out. Instead of the soothing sounds of her noise machine/alarm clock (which was supposed to wake her up at eight) it was her fire alarm that was blaring. Clara tumbled out of her bed. She hit the floor with a loud smack that shook the paper-thin floors. While she was on the floor, she pressed her ear against the floor. No fire alarm in that room. Just snoring. Why is it only my room? If Clara Nightshade had been a divine intuition or alternate universes major she might have realized that these somewhat unfortunate events were just a slight warning to what would follow. And I am not referring to the fact that the fire protection sprinklers started spitting down icy water on her pajama-clad body. Clara had gone shopping last night, as it was Monday today, and had bought a beautiful new pair of jeans that had dropped a bomb on 3 months of paychecks. They were now soaking wet, thus totally unfit to wear for her oral report. It was very important for Clara to feel very secure when doing an oral report; she had a tendency to puke when attempting public speaking. Her friend Gina had told her to wear clothes that made her feel beautiful so she wouldn't feel so insecure. Well, Gina was heading off somewhere on a train currently, and Clara was in a two-person room with only one person, a soaking pair of zillion-dollar jeans, and a supremely miffed gerbil. A very supremely miffed gerbil. With pointy teeth.

When Clara showed up for her class at 9:15 she learned something very important immediately. She was not 15 minutes late, she was two hours and 15 minutes late. And her class had ended 15 minutes ago. The class had unfortunately been held late so they all got to see Clara walk into class wearing sopping wet jeans and three t-shirts layered over each other. They were so wet it was all she could do to keep them from being see-through. Her professor wouldn't let her (or any one else in her class) leave until she gave her oral report and answered some questions she hadn't leaned the answers to yet. Her class was extraordinarily mad at her for making them all late or wasting their time. And, naturally, Clara arrived thirty-two minutes and 6.5 seconds late for her next class.

The rest of her day continued very much like the beginning. Bad things making other bad things happen. Such as how her lunch money had ripped because it had been wet so she had to go to the off-campus coffee shop. By the time she finally got through the traffic she was already three minutes late for her next class. She ordered her favorite hot coffee in the biggest cup she could afford with the money that had not been ripped to badly. As she was leaving the shop an overweight man holding three brownies on a napkin bumped into her. The brownies squished up on her shirt and the coffee splashed up into her face.

During her last class of the day (8:00-10:00) she fell asleep. She had not gotten enough rest that night because after she woke up (via fire-alarm) she had tried to use a battery powered hair dryer to speed the drying process of her room. Her teacher had made her stay late. By the time Clara finally got home (11:23) she was almost sure something was trying to keep her from getting home on time. She went up to her room to turn on her TV. Days like that one made Clara want to watch the news. It always cheered her up; it showed someone having an even worse day then her. When she tried to turn on her TV she was reminded of something very important. The power was out. She slumped down to the lounge. It was empty except for a couple that didn't look old enough to be in college sitting on a chair obviously made for one person only. Clara turned the lounge TV set onto the 12 o'clock news.

…deaths are uncertain, but so far there are at least six. Many are severely wounded…

Clara read the little white words running along the bottom of the screen. Train crash early this morning kills children. Clara gave a weak, half-hearted smile. At least, she thought someone else is having a bad day to.

…lend our sincerest condolences to the friend sand families of the dead. Three of which were just children. With great remorse…

He didn't look remorseful at all.

We are sorry to say that Lucy, Edmund and Peter Pevensie died in the crash. All of them were very young, fortunately, their sister, Susan Pevensie survived with only a few minor injuries to the head and torso.

For a moment or two Clara kept sitting, after her awful day her brain wasn't working as fast as it could. It took a few moments for her to realize what she had just heard. After exactly 3 minutes and four seconds Clara registered what she had just heard. It took her about an eight of a second to cry out every single tear she could possibly cry. Then she chugged her entire water bottle (which had been completely full) and cried some more. It hit her like, like it must have hit the poor Pevensies. Like a train. Somehow, the tears started burning like boiling water. Scalding her face and dripping down onto her clothes. The tears came faster and faster. After what might have been hours and might have been minutes, Clara was just to sad to cry. She was to sad to move. Clara's brain wasn't even working. Her day was even worse then she could have possibly imagined. Only one thought could fight its way through the barriers she was forcing up to keep out the events of the day. My best friend is dead. Edmund is dead.

Sorry, but the plot really requires me to choose this particular part of the story.