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

and try to help me up. I turn around expecting to see Anya or Mrs. Spangle or even Natalie, but instead, I come face-to-face with a splattering of freckles. Dennis’s freckles.
    â€œYou all right, Polka Dot?” Dennis whispers to me. I raise myself onto my knees, and Dennis boosts me up by the elbow.
    â€œWhy are you helping me?” I ask.
    Dennis shrugs. “It was either that or step on you,” which is a very Dennis way to answer.
    â€œWell, thanks,” I say, and Mrs. Spangle appears over my shoulder. “Are you okay? What happened? You know you’re not supposed to run indoors.”
    â€œI just got excited,” I answer. “And I slipped in my new shoes.” This is probably why Mom kept telling me to go scrape the bottoms on the sidewalk outside—so they would not be so slippery.
    â€œI think you should go get checked out by the nurse,” Mrs. Spangle says. “You fell pretty hard.”
    â€œBut my picture!” I exclaim. “I need my picture taken first.”
    â€œFine,” Mrs. Spangle answers. “Picture first—Dennis, you too—then Dennis will escort you to the nurse.”
    I look at Dennis, but he only nods very seriously, and I am not sure what has gotten into him.
    I walk over to the blue screen—slowly this time—and climb onto the stool. I drop my handbag by my feet, right by my perfect shoes, and I smile my widest grin toward the camera. The ­photographer adjusts my glittery scarf, and the light flashes in my eyes.
    â€œAll set,” he says, and I wait for Dennis to be finished with his own picture before we begin walking to the nurse’s office.
    â€œWhy are you being so nice to me?” I ask. “What do you want?”
    â€œCan’t I just be nice once in a while?”
    â€œYou are usually not,” I say.
    Dennis laughs at this. “Principal Jacks said I had to start treating people like I want to be treated, so . . .” Dennis trails off.
    â€œIs that why he keeps saying to remember what you talked about with him?” I ask. “Is that what he said when you stole my gummy bears?”
    Dennis nods his head without speaking.
    â€œSo you want me to be nice to you?”
    â€œOnly sometimes, I guess,” Dennis answers. “Or else it’s no fun.”
    I think about this for a moment. It would be pretty boring if I had to be nice to Dennis all the time.
    â€œHere is a deal,” I begin. “We don’t have to be that nice to each other. Just if it’s like an emergency or something.”
    â€œSo I still get to call you ‘Polka Dot’?” Dennis asks. “After all, you do call me ‘Freckle Face,’ so I’d say we’re even.”
    â€œOkay, fine,” I answer. “How many Band-Aids do you think the nurse will give me?”
    â€œTry to get a whole box full,” Dennis answers, and I nod because that sounds like a good plan. “By the way, why did Natalie pick you to go to lunch with her?”
    â€œBecause I’m fun,” I answer him, and this ­comment makes Dennis laugh again.
    â€œI guess you are, Polka Dot,” he says.

    Mom comes to pick me up at school, even though I am not really hurt. The nurse called our house to say that I fell down, and because Grandmom was already there, Mom could leave her with Timmy and the twins and come get me by herself. Which is a great thing, except for one small detail. . . .
    â€œAre you okay?” Mom asks when she barges into the nurse’s office. “What hurts? Did you scrape anything? Let me see your— are you wearing lipstick? ”
    Uh-oh.
    â€œYes,” I answer honestly.
    â€œDid you wear that in your picture?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œMandy!” Mom wails, and she doesn’t even seem worried anymore that I fell down. “You can’t wear red lipstick in your class photos! What will the other parents think?”
    â€œThey’ll