Morning tea time came and went in a blink. Clementine sat with Sophie and Poppy out on the veranda and by the time the girls had eaten their snacks and visited the toilet there was no time left to play.

Clementine had decided that visiting the toilet was very important. Just before the morning tea bell, a girl called Erica had an accident in the classroom. Although Mrs Bottomley didn’t fuss, Erica cried and everyone felt sorry for her. That is, except for some of the boys, including Angus, who called her a piddle-pants. Mrs Bottomley told the class that it could happen to anyone.

Clementine didn’t like to think it could happen to her. She’d had enough attention from her teacher for one day. She had already decided that she’d try her best to do as she was told and then hopefully Mrs Bottomley wouldn’t accuse her of telling lies any more.

After morning tea, Mrs Bottomley made the children copy some numbers from the board and then match them with coloured blocks. Clementine wondered when she would learn how to tell the time.

She avoided talking to Angus and tried not to look at him either. But that didn’t stop him being naughty.

Clementine just happened to glance up from her work when she saw that Angus was drilling his finger up his nose. She watched as he removed a large glob of yellow snot. He held it in the air and examined it closely.

Angus noticed her watching him and pulled a face. ‘What are you looking at?’

‘Nothing,’ said Clementine, and went back to her work. That’s when Angus did something unforgivable. He wiped his finger on her shoulder.

She let out a squeal. ‘Ahh!’

‘Clementine Rose Appleby, whatever is the matter now?’ Mrs Bottomley demanded.

‘Angus just put snot on my uniform.’ Clementine’s lip began to tremble. Her beautiful clean new uniform now had a disgusting booger on it.

‘Come here,’ said Mrs Bottomley, rolling her eyes.

Clementine stood up. Angus giggled. The boy behind him called Joshua laughed too.

But this time the girls in the class seemed equally offended and nine pairs of eyes bored into Angus’s back.

Mrs Bottomley examined the offending yellow glob. With one swift move she pulled a tissue from the supersized box on her desk and removed it without so much as leaving a mark.

‘All gone, Clementine, nothing to worry about,’ she tutted. ‘Angus Archibald, you will see me at lunchtime. I think our playground could do with some beautification, which you will be in charge of. That behaviour is completely unacceptable.’ The teacher walked over to the lad, who crossed his arms and huffed loudly.

‘But,’ he whined, ‘it was an accident.’

Mrs Bottomley’s eyebrows furrowed together like a pair of angry brown caterpillars. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘But, Nan . . .’ Angus pouted.

The whole class gasped.

‘What did you just call me?’ Ethel Bottomley’s eyes grew round and she stood over him like a giant brown toadstool.

Clementine looked at Angus Archibald and then at Mrs Bottomley. They had the same hair; that was why she had thought Mrs Bottomley reminded her of someone. It was the woman who had been standing out the front with Angus. She must be Mrs Bottomley’s daughter.

Angus looked at the forbidding woman in front of him.

‘Outside. NOW!’ she roared.

The lad scurried out the door and onto the veranda like a naughty dog. The kindergarten class had never been left on their own before. No one quite knew what to do.

Sophie and Poppy left their seats and raced up the front to talk to Clementine.

‘He’s in big trouble now,’ Sophie said.

‘But if Mrs Bottomley’s really his granny, she can’t be all that mad with him. Grandparents have to be nice to their grandchildren,’ said Poppy. ‘It’s in the rules.’

‘Are you joking? My grandmamma is fierce and French and half the time I can’t understand a word she says. She scares me to bits,’ Sophie said.

It was hard to tell what was going on out on the veranda, except when Mrs Bottomley roared like a hungry lion.

‘It doesn’t sound like he’s getting any special treatment,’ said Clementine. Her eyes were the size of dinner plates.

‘Don’t you ever call me Nan in class again, young man, or I will have you out of here before you have time to learn to count to one hundred,’ Mrs Bottomley bellowed.

The door opened and everyone scurried back to their seats, like ants before a storm.

‘Yes, well,’ the teacher said, looking around at the class, ‘we might as well be honest about this. Angus is my grandson. But rest assured, while I love him very much, he will call me Mrs Bottomley just the same as everyone else does.’ She glared at the lad, whose face was red and eyes were puffy. He sniffled as he skulked back to his desk.

Clementine thought that was a bit beside the point. Who cared if he called her Nan? She was more worried about him getting away with bad behaviour, which up until now he’d proven to be very good at. Angus slumped down in his chair. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hands.

Clementine felt a little bit sorry for him. She decided to see if he would talk to her. Maybe then he wouldn’t be so upset.

‘Are we really having a pet day?’ Clementine asked.

Angus shrugged.

Clementine tried again to be friendly. ‘That would be fun, don’t you think?’

‘Maybe,’ Angus said with a sniffle.

Clementine noticed that he was in need of a tissue. She walked over to Mrs Bottomley’s supersized box, pulled a couple out and handed them to the boy. He took the tissues from her and blew his nose like a trumpet, then thrust them back at her covered in gooey slime.

‘You just don’t get it, do you?’ Clementine sighed, and then dropped the grotty tissues in the bin. She asked Mrs Bottomley if she could go to the toilet and wash her hands. Angus hadn’t even said thank you.