Massie Block stared down at her nose at the new girl.
“Ehmagawd! Puh-lease, let you sit at our table? With that outfit? That is so last week!” She tossed her hair over her one shoulder and looked down at her own impeccably put-together, expensive outfit. She grinned and said, “Are you a dalmatian?”
“No, of course I’m not,” replied the new girl, Naomi, who had after all only wanted to sit somewhere, anywhere.
“Well, then, why do you have spots?” She pointed one french-manicured fingernail at the girl’s top. It was a turquoise tunic with white polka dots, worn over what in Naomi’s opinion were perfectly good jeans. They were Levi’s.
Naomi rolled her eyes.
“Ehmagawd, Leesh, did you see that? She AHB -viously does not know who I am.” Massie crossed her arms and stared at the other girl. “I’m, like, the queen bee of the seventh grade at OCD .”
“Yeah?” Naomi said coolly. “Well, I’m an eighth grader, and I have a brain larger than a pea.”

[Note: I read one of the books out of curiosity; my sister liked it.]