The spirited and sassy eight-year-old Mandy Berr strives to look—and behave!—her best in this sweet and funny tale. Class Picture Day is fast approaching, and Mandy Berr is looking for the perfect accessory that will complete her special outfit. Her fancy-dancy sunglasses, sparkly scarf, and pink handbag are all up for consideration—but Mandy isn’t sure those will be good enough. As if picking out an appropriate look for her class picture wasn’t enough to worry about, the principal announces a contest for the entire school: whoever exhibits the best behavior in the lunchroom for two weeks gets to have a lunch with him in the mythical teacher’s lounge! Mandy is determined to win…but will her nemesis, Dennis, get in her way? Allison Gutknecht is the author of multiple books for young readers, including the Pet Pals series, Sing Like Nobody’s Listening , Spring Break Mistake , The Bling Queen , and the Mandy Berr series. After graduating from the University of Pennsylvania, she earned her master’s degree in children’s media and literature from NYU. Allison grew up in Voorhees, New Jersey, and now lives in New York City. Stevie Lewis grew up in Southern California and works in the animation industry as a visual development artist. She studied computer animation at Ringling College of Art and Design in Sarasota, Florida. In her spare time she enjoys traveling, rock climbing, baking cookies, browsing thrift shops, and drinking delicious coffee! She lives in San Francisco with her two little dogs. Never Wear Red Lipstick on Picture Day CHAPTER 1 Fancy-Dancy Copycats MRS. SPANGLE IS GETTING ON MY NERVES. Sometimes Mrs. Spangle is the best second-grade teacher in the universe, and other times she is not. Today she is not, because we do not agree about when I should be allowed to wear my fancy-dancy sunglasses. Grandmom gave me these sunglasses, and they are just amazing, if I am being honest. Only, Mrs. Spangle does not think they are as amazing as I do, because when I put them on while I am doing my seatwork, I hear her clear her throat, and she does not do so very quietly either. I look over at her through my sunglasses, and she is staring right at me. “Mandy,” she begins, “you know the rule about no sunglasses inside the school.” She gestures for me to take them off and then looks down at her desktop. I glance at the list of eight rules for our classroom, which hangs next to the board, then I shoot my hand in the air. When Mrs. Spangle does not call on me, I start to wave it, still wearing my sunglasses. “Yes?” Mrs. Spangle finally sees me. “There is no rule about sunglasses,” I say quietly, pointing to the list. “So I will just wear these, okay?” “Not okay,” Mrs. Spangle says, and she begins rustling in her desk drawer. She pulls out a black marker, walks over to our CLASSROOM RULES sign, and takes the cap off. “Sorry to interrupt your work, boys and girls, but who can tell me some accessories we are not allowed to wear inside the school building?” Hands shoot in the air all around me, but I just cross my arms and slouch down in my seat. “Yes, Julia?” Mrs. Spangle calls. “Hats,” Julia answers. “Right.” Mrs. Spangle begins writing a new rule—number nine—on our list. “No hats. . . . What else? Natalie?” “Sunglasses,” Natalie answers, and I give her a dirty look, which is a waste because she cannot even see it through my sunglasses. “Ahem.” Mrs. Spangle clears her throat again at me, but I pretend not to hear her. She writes sunglasses next to hats on our new rule number nine. “What else?” “Polka-dot underwear!” Dennis calls out super loudly, and I whip around in my seat real fast and stick my tongue out at him. “No underwear talk in school, Dennis,” Mrs. Spangle says. “I’ll tell you what—I’m going to finish this rule with ‘No hats, sunglasses, or other outdoor accessories can be worn in the classroom.’ ” She dots the new rule with a period, even though I think it would be better with an exclamation mark, and she turns to face me. Mrs. Spangle and I stare at each other in silence. “Mandy, sunglasses off. Now,” she finally says, so I pull the sunglasses off of my face and fold them on top of my desk. “Inside your desk, please,” Mrs. Spangle continues, and I don’t know what she has against ­fancy-dancy sunglasses. “You can wear them when you’re outside at recess, but not one minute before.” I place my sunglasses inside my desk and cover them with a sheet of construction paper to protect them. Anya leans over and whispers in my ear, “Sorry about your sunglasses,” and this is why Anya is my favorite person in the world, at least most of the time. Because she understands what a tragedy it is to not be able to wear your ­fancy-dancy sunglasses during seatwork. I nod my head sadly at her, and then I feel a tap on my elbow. I turn, and Natalie is holding out her hand in a fist toward me, real low so Mrs. Spangle cannot see. “What is it?” I whisper-yell at her. N