Massie Block could feel the hisses and whispers as she walked onto the campus of her new school, a place with a few two-story buildings, but classrooms scattered throughout grassland. Apparently, it was called Briarwood-Country Day School, and as a lovely transfer from Abner Double Day, Massie felt obligated to make a good impression on her first day as an eighth grader at her new school. She decided to trade in more 'casual' outfits such as a DKNY strapless sundress (hey, campus dress-coders could be easily bribed, no?) for something professional-looking and high-class. But unless she decided that today would be the perfect day to stick out and show everyone what she was missing, Jimmy Choo Morse patent flats and Temperley London's Cobra silk dress was nawt the best option. Everywhere she looked, brightly colored skinny jeans and wildly-patterned Converse blinded her.

She nearly cringed as a gaggle of girls wearing zebra-print tops zoomed by. Why wasn't this place just single-gender and indoors? And where on Earth were the Prada calfskin satchels and Betsey Johnson party dresses? Well, true, party dresses were meant for parties, after all...but seriously, where were they? Being someone who had been expelled from ADD once already, she could understand moving to a public school. She didn't think her mother actually meant it when she said 'down-to-earth'! The least she could hope for now were Aeropostale-clad wannabes and Frauda-holders to be her followers, after Massie had seen this mess. The whispers were intensifying with every step into her new school.

"So I think that's a pair of Jimmy Choo flats, I saw them on Net-a-Porter the other day. Her bag is definitely the Louis Vuitton Cherry Blossom satchel, it's got LVs and it's bright pink. I'm not so sure about the dress, it could be any designer, really. And that's a Miu Miu Alice headband."

Could it be? Someone who actually knew and wore her designers?

The brunette head whipped around, curls teased with hairspray bouncing. There was a girl sneaking side-glances at her as she gabbed her head off to her friends. Ugh, all Tory Burch-clad hope and wonder was gone in a second, as Massie gave her the famous once-over. This girl would be privileged to become part of Massie's social network, really, with that outfit on. Fiery red hair gathered in a messy bun, thick black glasses, a black t-shirt on with the words 'meet me on the dance floor' in rainbow glitter, and regular dark-wash skinny jeans. Regular was something Massie would have to grow accustomed to, in this world, since special probably stood for losers who wore hand-knit turtlenecks and flared jeans at this school. She would have to talk to her to network, probably.

As Massie silently stared for a few more seconds, she took note of the crowd-slash-small group around the girl who spoke Prada. Hmm, co-ed and a bunch of people conversing with her at the same time? Nawt bad. Her French-manicured hand groped around in the satchel to pick out a stick of 5 Solstice. That ice would have to do in the absence of ice queens. Time to talk to the frenemies.

"What, you speak Prada?" Well, maybe that wasn't the best choice to say to someone who was likely Massie's best hope as a friend.

Surprisingly, the redhead replied with a grin. "What, you don't? I guess you overheard me describing your outfit to my friends, I'm the only one who speaks Dior here, too."

"Well, since your outfit is a teensy bit on the non-designer side, I had to check." The people around her didn't look remotely interested in their conversation, although a few glanced Massie's way. Score.

"Not all of us can be beautiful, popular, and rich." As she shrugged, the shoulders brought attention to Miss Name-Unknown's eyes. A brilliant shade of emerald greeted Massie's already unusual amber-colored eyes. Hmm, she would use deductive reasoning to subtract the beautiful and popular, until voila! Of course, she could only be anything but rich beyond her wildest dreams. Massie had to admit, that wasn't a half-bad comeback for someone who had been greeted with 'what, you speak Prada'

"I'm Massie. New to BOCD, getting old and tired of scene kids and skinny jeans." Massie held out her hand, because that was the classy thing to do.

"I'm Dylan. New to eighth grade, getting you used to checkered button-downs and PacSun short-shorts. Trust me, if you're tired of scene kids and skinny jeans, then I suggest you head up to the music building and search for the blondes wearing nothing but American Eagle camis and carrying fake Coach bags. If you can't afford to buy a nice Ralph Lauren polo, then I'm sure any Coach you have would be fake." Dylan replied coolly, crossing her arms. Aha! So there were some actually fakes and stereotypical preps at this school. Of course, every school had to have them. Except maybe ADD. Massie couldn't believe that she was close to rejoicing at those words.

"Your friends would be?"

"That's Claire. She's kind of quiet, until you get to know her and her AIM screenname, which starts to scream hyper and random the moment you see it pop up on your screen." Dylan pointed at one of the blondes Massie had just noticed, who grinned and gave the peace sign. "Kristen, who's oh-so-involved with getting fantastic grades that pwn (no kidding, she actually said pwn) mine. Plus, she's in Leadership, a.k.a. the place filled with snobby kids some people don't like."

"Um, that's Kemp," Massie pretended not to notice the girl who poked Dylan in the stomach when she said his name. Hmm, what could that mean?

"He's the flirty-slash-bad boy-slash perverted one out of all of us, even though I've been known to crack dirty jokes from time to time, and Cam being not girly for once." At his description, Kemp sidled up to Dylan's shoulder, to the part where she and her crew were facing Massie. Ooh, multiple people versus one, how interesting.

"Hello my dear squirrel," yet another girl, this one dressed in head-to-toe Hollister (with the exception of her rhinestone skull-and-crossbones Vans) greeted Dylan. The brunette tried focused on the network, not the growing threat Dylan was.

"And that's Cam. Pokemon-obsessed, best friends with Kemp, and believe it or not, totally clueless, innocent, and naive until you hear him in health class, which you should thank the school administrators and your parents for not having you here last year. Plus he's a slow-typer. And he tends to get in trouble a lot, once you think about it." This time, Claire giggled along with Dylan. Massie couldn't help feeling a bit left out. What a typical cliche this was, she had fantasized about stepping into a Louboutin-clacking school and ruling the hallways the moment she stepped in. But no, that would be too simple, plus Massie Jillian Block ahb-viously didn't go down without a fight.

"I forgot to introduce you to Saylene and Layne, who are like, uber-best friends. Layne's only wearing clothes so Kemp over there doesn't do what we really hope he won't do-" at this point, she noted a growing blush on Dylan's pale cheeks, "-and Saylene, who's kooky and random. Plus, they're both in love with anime and manga. You should've seen them plus Claire trying to convince me to watch Death Note, it was creepier than seeing Kemp dress up as a girl for Halloween." Everyone started laughing, and Massie had to fake-laugh to make herself convincing. "So yup, that was your play-by-play description of the beautiful, somewhat insane group of friends here."

Oh, of course, Massie thought bitterly. I stepped foot in a school full of cliques and places where I'll have to rebuild my status and my place until Daddy moves us again. I hope the mall's good, though.

"So, yeah, thanks for that. Do any of you guys know where to get a schedule? I can't find the ATMs that pop them out here. Then again, I don't even have an ID card to use."
Cam looked surprised, as he jumped off the brick wall he had been sitting on. "I thought they told you that in the letter they send for orientation and orientation itself. Your homeroom teacher gives out your schedules, and you get your student IDs when picture day arrives. Speaking of orientation, you probably saw Kristen there. I don't have half a clue where the hell Denver is, anyways, I texted her on the bus this morning and she didn't reply."

"Probably because she doesn't have texting, loser." Dylan rolled her eyes.

Massie blanched. First of all, a school without designers. Second of all, cursing, which was absolutely nawt classy, and completely for 'emergency alpha' situations. Thirdly, buses? Talk about ew, unless they're celebrity tour buses!

"Cursing is soooooo nawt classy, Cam."

"You should see him in class."

"Whatevs." She could deal with that problem-if it even was a problem-later.

"So who's the feisty new chick anyways, Dylan? You didn't give us a proper hello, new girl, plus my best friend over here isn't exactly pro at remembering things, such as her manners." Kemp eyed her, shaking his dark brown hair like a wet puppy. That stare was starting to get uncomfortable...multiply it by about six, and you get the little co-ed clique. Speaking of which, that probably meant that Dylan had connections. Facebook, anyone?

"Massie. Eighth grader. And Kemp, are you a shampoo bottle?"

"No, what the hell are you talking about?"

"Then why are you so fruity?" Dylan was the only one that openly laughed at that, the others exchanged confused looks behind her.

"What homeroom are you in, anyways?" A question fired at her by one of the blondes. Was it Kristen, Claire, or Saylene? They all had varying shades of blonde hair, but one had chocolate brown eyes, another aqua, and yet another a clear blue. She could recall one being manga-obsessed, one random, and one was a geek or something like that.

"Homeroom 51, I think it says." Massie waved a slip of paper in the air, wondering what effect her comeback had on the boy.

"Well, you're welcome to stay with me for a bit. The building opens at approximately 7:45 A.M., and homeroom starts at 8:05 A.M., and considering we're in the same homeroom, I think you'll need someone to show you around." A smirk graced the redhead's facial features. Oh, Massie was supposed to be offering help on how to recover from a diss, not being offered help on how to find her way around her new kingdom.

Her hand took the new iPhone 3G out of her purse, checking the time. Still 7:40, and school ended at approximately 3:12 P.M.

"Oh my God, I have that exact same phone!" Aqua-Eyes pulled out her iPhone, discreetly flashing the touch screen at Massie.

After-school shopping would simply have to wait.


A/N: In between breaking wireless mouses and searching for my WtMW plot bunny and watching GG online...I dreamt up this. xD Review?