Free Never Wear Red Lipstick on Picture Day: (And Other Lessons I've Learned) by Allison Gutknecht Page A

Polka Dot,” Dennis whispers to me, and I notice then that part of my dress is caught between our chairs. I pull it out carefully.
    â€œDon’t wrinkle my periwinkle, Freckle Face,” I tell him.
    â€œWrinkle my periwinkle,” he repeats. “That sounds funny.”
    â€œI know,” I say. “I like it too.”
    The photographer assembles the rest of our class in three rows—some standing, some sitting in chairs, and some sitting cross-legged on the floor. He leads Mrs. Spangle to the back row next to the standers, and she is posing right behind my head, so I look up and grin at her. Then I cross my feet at my ankles, just like the photographer asks, and stick them out as far as I can, my toes pointed, so that my shoes will be in the picture.
    â€œWhat a fine-looking group of second graders,” a voice booms out from the cafeteria door, and ­Principal Jacks appears. “Thank you for being so patient today—I know it’s hard to be the last group.”
    â€œOkay, on the count of three,” the photo­grapher begins, “say ‘Fluffernutter!’ One . . . two . . .”
    â€œFLUFFERNUTTER!” my class calls out, and the photographer snaps the picture with a click.
    â€œOne more,” he announces, “and then we’ll move on to your individual shots. One . . . two . . .”
    â€œFLUFFERNUTTER!” we call again, and I smile my widest smile, because I am in my periwinkle dress and my click-clack shoes and my glittery scarf and, best of all, my cherry-red lipstick. So it does not even matter that I am sitting next to Dennis, because I have a lot going on.

    â€œLooks great, guys,” the photographer says.
    â€œIf I could just interrupt you for one second,” Principal Jacks states, coming onto the stage. “I want to announce the results of our raffle drawing, because the first contest winner is from Mrs. Spangle’s class. This person will have lunch with me this Friday and will also get to choose one buddy to accompany her to the lunch.”
    â€œHer?” Dennis calls out. “So it’s a girl?” He says the word “girl” like it is a disease, and I hope he gets in trouble for it.
    â€œIt is indeed, Mr. Riley,” Principal Jacks answers him. “And I hope you are happy for your winning classmate and remember what we discussed.” He gives Dennis a very serious look with his owl eyes. “Where is Natalie Abel?”
    Natalie, who is sitting cross-legged on the floor, raises her hand shyly.
    â€œCongratulations, Natalie!” Principal Jacks exclaims. “You displayed excellent cafeteria behavior all week. As a reward, you get to choose one buddy to join you for lunch, so think about who you would like that to—”
    â€œI choose Mandy,” Natalie interrupts him, and I have never been so shocked in my life.
    â€œVery good.” Principal Jacks nods. “I look forward to dining with you. Now go take some stupendous pictures.” He turns and walks out the cafeteria door while Natalie looks over her shoulder at me. I give her an enormous smile and a thumbs-up, and Natalie mouths, I like your lipstick .
    Thank you , I mouth back with no sound, and Natalie grins at me.
    â€œOkay, let’s get you all lined up for your individual shots,” the photographer announces. “Let’s start with Miss Periwinkle here on the end.” He points to me.
    â€œWahoo!” I leap up from my seat and reach down to grab my handbag. Then I take of f ­running in the direction of the giant blue screen with the camera set out in front of it.
    â€œMandy, no run—”
    SPLAT!
    Suddenly, my hands and knees feel cold against the floor, and my scarf falls completely over my head so it is covering my hair like a blanket. I lift my chin and see my handbag lying far out in front of me.
    â€œMandy, are you okay?” I hear voices behind me, and I feel someone tap my arm