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

­fancy-dancy sunglasses off of the shelf above my bed, and I stick them inside my pink handbag. I look over my shoulder to make sure no one is snooping, and then I reach under my mattress and take out Mom’s cherry-red lipstick. I stick the lipstick in my bag too, and then I bounce down the stairs and click-clack into the kitchen.
    And when Mom takes my first photo of the day, I place my hands on my hips, stick my right foot out to show off my shoe, and smile like I mean it, because I do.

    â€œMandy, Mr. Jacks would like to see you” is the first thing I hear when I walk into my classroom, and it makes my day go from wonderful to terrible immediately.
    â€œOooh . . . ,” Dennis says in a singsong voice. “Polka Dot’s in trouble.”
    â€œDennis, that’s a warning,” Mrs. Spangle scolds him. Dennis’s Mohawk is combed down into a poof against the top of his head, and he is wearing a bow tie and everything. If “Freckle Face” weren’t already such a great namecall for him, I’d come up with a new one right away, because he looks pretty silly right now.
    I scurry up to Mrs. Spangle’s desk so that we can talk in private.
    â€œWhy does Principal Jacks need to see me?” I whisper.
    â€œI’m not sure,” she says. “There was just a note in my mailbox this morning asking to send you down to his office when you arrived.” Mrs. ­Spangle raises her eyebrows at me. “Did something happen that I should know about?”
    I swallow loudly. “Well, there was this scarf . . . ,” I begin.
    â€œUh-huh . . .”
    â€œAnd I kind of accidentally hit him with it, but it was an accident, I promise, because I was trying to hit Dennis, and then Principal Jacks took my scarf away, and I wasn’t going to tell you because I didn’t want you to be mad at me too, but I sent him a note and I said I was sorry and—”
    â€œOkay, okay,” Mrs. Spangle interrupts me. “Best to just go see what he wants. And, Mandy? I don’t want you to be afraid to tell me things. I’m here to help you.”
    â€œOkay,” I say quietly, and I turn on my click-clack heel and head out the classroom door, walking as slowly as possible in the direction of the office.
    The second I arrive at the window by Mrs. Gradey’s desk, she calls out to me. “Oh, Mandy Berr! Mr. Jacks is expecting you,” she says. “You can head right in.”
    I shuffle my feet on the floor in the direction of Principal Jacks’s office. “My, don’t you look all dolled up and lovely for Picture Day today,” Mrs. Gradey calls after me. But I am too fluttery about where I am headed to do anything but give her the very smallest of smiles.
    â€œMandy Berr!” Principal Jacks’s voice booms out even before I reach his doorway. “Just the second grader I wanted to see. Come on in.”
    I walk in carefully, and my knees feel like I can hardly bend them. I’ve never been called to the principal’s office before—never because the principal asked to see me. That only happens to really bad kids. I’m more of a get-my-initials-on-the-board-a-couple-times-a-week type of kid. But never this.
    â€œWell, you look spiffy today,” Principal Jacks says when he sees me. “Is that a special outfit for Picture Day?”
    I nod my head silently, and I am pretty sure I have never been so quiet in my life.
    â€œI wanted to thank you for the note you sent me,” Principal Jacks continues. “That was very nice of you to apologize. It takes a big person to admit when she’s made a mistake.”
    I nod my head again, because I do not usually like to admit such things.
    â€œAnd I wanted to give this back to you.” ­Principal Jacks reaches into his desk drawer and pulls out my glittery scarf. “I assume you know not to throw it in anyone’s face anymore,