Miss Frost came down hard on the children after lunch. She didn’t like being beaten, and was determined to make their lives miserable. ‘You shall spend the entire afternoon writing a reflection about the importance of physical activity. I expect at least five hundred words – fluent and legible. If there are any errors – even just one – you will write the entire thing again.’

Vinnie raised a tentative hand.

‘Yes, Vanessa?’

‘I’ve already written a reflection,’ said Vinnie. ‘I wrote it while we were waiting for the challenge to finish. Mr Bambuckle told us to –’

‘Show me,’ snapped the assistant principal.

Vinnie handed Miss Frost her two pages of carefully constructed writing. The teacher’s lips fidgeted as they often did when she was unable to find fault. ‘And what about you lot?’

The rest of the class, led by the much-relieved Scarlett, took their work to the teacher, whose lips now convulsed in agitated bursts. Even Miffy had managed to scribe a detailed reflection in the short time it took to eat lunch. She had been taught well by Mr Bambuckle, and was only too happy to show off her writing chops.

Miss Frost clutched the sheets of paper in despair, her pride taking another hard blow. Even though she held all the cards, she felt as though her hand was constantly being trumped by this class of misfits and their bumbling teacher. In pure bitterness, she allowed a dark cloud to enter her mind.

Then Scarlett approached Miss Frost and did something unthinkable. She wrapped her arms around the teacher and squeezed her waist in a hug bearing unconditional forgiveness. ‘Miss Frost, I would like to thank you for giving me another chance. I promise I will try my best to meet your expectations.’ She squeezed tighter, adding, ‘And I’ll try not to zap you to any exotic locations again.’

The students giggled. It was one of those soft ripples of laughter that carried the perfect blend of fondness and relief. Perhaps the assistant principal would turn a corner.

The lovely gesture, however, was not well received. Miss Frost glowered at Scarlett with renewed coldness. How could a child like this get the better of her? How dare she promise to change when she had committed such a heinous act just weeks before? This was the last straw. The dark cloud in Miss Frost’s mind triggered an icy decision, shattering the promise she made earlier that day.

‘I need to make a phone call,’ she said suddenly.

‘Oh,’ said Scarlett, loosening her grip so Miss Frost could step away.

The teacher pulled out her phone and selected a number.

‘Who’s she calling?’ whispered Myra.

Miss Frost heard Myra’s question and moved further away from them with a sneer. She was playing a new game and the students didn’t like it one bit.

Mr Bambuckle, meanwhile, caught Scarlett’s eye and gave her an affirming nod. ‘Your forgiveness is a marvellous thing, dear child. When you draw on such strength you can thrive in even the harshest conditions.’

Scarlett smiled. ‘Thanks, Mr Bambuckle.’

Miss Frost was now speaking quietly on the phone and Harold dared inch closer to where she was standing. ‘She’s saying something about hair gel,’ he said.

‘Hair gel?’ said Albert. ‘What could she possibly want with hair gel?’

‘Wait a moment,’ said Harold. ‘I think I’m wrong. She’s saying something about ex-bells.’

‘Ex-bells?’ said Albert. ‘That’s stranger still.’

Harold took another step closer to Miss Frost. ‘Wrong again. It’s something about someone being repelled. Or egg spelled.’

Albert glanced at Scarlett. ‘She couldn’t mean … expelled, could she?’

Miss Frost sensed the class was catching on and she waltzed cruelly within earshot.

‘Mr Geeves … I understand your shock … I am expelling her due to unreasonable behaviour at school … Yes, I am quite serious … It was a computer program called PhotoCrop … Mr Geeves, do I sound like I’m joking? … I shall send you a text message with the address of the camp and you and Mrs Geeves are to come and collect Charlotte – sorry, yes, Scarlett – immediately. Goodbye.’

Miss Frost tucked her phone back into her pocket and turned to the class. ‘My expectations will be met. Discipline is the new order.’ She straightened her top and turned towards her car. ‘Skylight, you have half an hour to pack your things. I’m off to complete some paperwork.’

As Miss Frost walked away, the gravity of her decision hit the students like a ton of bricks. Ren and Vinnie embraced the shell-shocked Scarlett, Carrot’s eyes watered uncontrollably and Evie curled up into a tiny ball at Victoria’s feet.

Although Mr Bambuckle knew this wasn’t the end of the story, he understood this was a low point, so he asked the students to gather around.

‘She promised there would be no punishment,’ managed Scarlett, wiping away a tear.

‘Why is Miss Frost so mean?’ said Miffy, who felt as though her effort during the game had been wasted.

Mr Bambuckle offered a reassuring smile, pausing to ensure Scarlett was drawn in by its comfort. ‘Dear children, as difficult as this is, I must urge you to take heart and follow Scarlett’s strength. We would be foolish to forget the example of the snow crocus.’

‘The snow crocodile?’ said Harold. ‘There’s no such thing.’

‘Not crocodile, dear Harold,’ said the teacher. ‘Crocus.’

‘What’s a snow crocus?’ asked Ren.

‘Oh, pick me!’ said Albert, who had read about crocuses in books.

Mr Bambuckle retrieved his frying pan from one of his pockets and flipped it in the air. It spun twice and he caught it with the ease of a seasoned juggler. ‘Kindly tell us what you know, dear boy.’

Albert adjusted his glasses. ‘The snow crocus is a flower that’s known to bloom in cold conditions. It can even burst into colour through snow.’

‘Your knowledge is a beautiful thing,’ said Mr Bambuckle.

‘I know a beautiful thing,’ said Damon, gazing at Victoria.

Mr Bambuckle flipped the pan again – which was now sizzling – and caught it with his other hand.

‘I detect the aroma of pancakes,’ said Slugger.

‘Right you are,’ said Mr Bambuckle, with a smile. ‘There is so much wonderful knowledge in this group – I must never take it for granted.’

Miffy scratched her head. ‘I’m confused. What do snow crocuses have to do with Scarlett and Miss Frost?’

Mr Bambuckle’s green eyes shone. As someone who welcomed curiosity, he knew the question warranted a thoughtful response. ‘Just like the snow crocus can blossom through the ice, people can flourish in difficult times. The snow crocus is indeed a special flower – it often represents the end of winter and the early stages of spring. Scarlett demonstrated this marvellous strength when she hugged Miss Frost. I have no doubt she will continue being courageous for a long time to come.’

‘Are you saying Scarlett will be okay, even if Miss Frost has just expelled her?’ said Miffy.

‘Of that I am most certain,’ said Mr Bambuckle. ‘And perhaps even Miss Frost will someday bloom. I sense her winter will eventually come to an end.’

There was a moment’s silence as the students thought about what their teacher had explained. Knowing full well there was truth to everything he said, their miserable thoughts for Scarlett turned to hope.

The colour returned to Scarlett’s cheeks and she stood up. ‘I think I have the strength to pack my things now.’

‘I know you have the strength to do so,’ said the teacher.

Scarlett let the comment sink in, then walked to her tent.

Mr Bambuckle whistled, tossing his frying pan into the air once more. This time he caught it behind his back.

The students watched in admiration for quite some time, marvelling at their teacher’s skill.

‘Why do you keep flipping the pan?’ asked Harold eventually.

‘Because flipping pancakes is too easy,’ said Mr Bambuckle. ‘And I do believe they’re ready. Who would like one?’

‘Me, please!’ sang a chorus of voices.

As the students reached for the tasty snacks, Scarlett returned with her belongings.

Although the students were now feeling much better about things, their uncertainty for their classmate’s future added a sombre tone to the afternoon.

Harold offered Scarlett his pancake. ‘We believe in you,’ he said. ‘We know you are remarkable. Even though you have to leave our school, we have faith you will be okay, because you’re strong.’

Scarlett smiled. ‘It’s you who make me strong,’ she said, addressing the entire class, including Mr Bambuckle.

‘But it’s you who blossoms,’ said Harold. ‘You’re a snow crocodile.’

Scarlett managed a laugh. ‘Before I go, I have one thing to ask.’

‘Ask you may,’ said Mr Bambuckle.

‘I’ve never been in a class like this before,’ said Scarlett, ‘and I’ve never had a teacher like you, Mr Bambuckle. Could we please do one last fun activity before my parents arrive?’

Mr Bambuckle’s chest filled with pride. His pupil was already demonstrating the positivity she needed to see this day through. ‘You name it, dear Scarlett.’

‘I’ve always loved your creative lessons,’ she said. ‘Can we do one of those? What about ridiculous uses for a stick?’

‘A stick it is,’ said Mr Bambuckle. ‘Brainstorm away.’