The Instagram Girl.

At school, I'm a reject. The girl that the popular kids try and avoid. But at home, I write the coolest blog in the nation. But things can get pretty tricky in my life with my group of friends. Who knew that just a little blog could turn my life upside down... and change the way I feel about some people.


3. Chapter three.

I have a strange obsession with oranges.

Will knows this.

And he doesn't just sit around knowing it, he does something about it.

So, every Saturday, I go over to Will's house and we pick oranges from the clementine trees in his small backyard.

His garden is really winding down though, since every scrap of summer is out of reach, and I get really depressed from orange withdraw. 

Anyways, I grab my basket and skip over to Will's house. I don't even waste time knocking on the door.

Will's family situation is almost the opposite of mine. He lives in a house full of little girls as I live in a house with little boys. Dolls and dress up accessories litter the floors up to his room.

"CARTER! I have to show you something!" Will's 5 year old sister Rosie grabs my hand as I walk up the stairs. I laugh and go into her room where she leads me. She has two princess dresses lying on her bed: Belle and Cinderella.

"Which one should I do?" she asks, puzzled.

"Definetly Cinderella. You deserve a prince who isn't covered in gross hair," I laugh and help her slip the dress over her pajamas. She beams back at me and has a giggling fit when I fit the tiara on her head.

I look over to find Will leaning on the door frame with a side smile on his face. Once I look, he wipes it away and plays his cool.

"Let's go pick some oranges," he laughs and holds up his own basket.

"You want to come out with us Rosie?" I ask as she's fitting on her heels.

"Yes!" she jumps up and down, the plastic of the shoes flapping up and down as she bounces around.

I laugh and grab her hand and we go into the backyard. I smell the beautiful aroma of sweet citrus and we make our way to the trees. I lift Rosie up to get the tall ones and she drops them in my small woven basket, the handle resting upon her agile arms.

"Higher! Higher!" she points to a higher one that I couldn't even try to help her up to. 

"Here, I got you," Will says and takes her from my shoulders and lifting her onto his shoulders.

Will absolutely adores Rosie.

And his other sisters, of course, but there's something about Rosie, since she's the littlest of the girls, and it's so fun to watch them interact. 

She grabs the highest one on the tree and sets it in my basket.

"That's the best one for sure," she concludes as Will lowers her down. The baskets are full now, so we head back inside to find Will's mom making the last of what she can with the small harvest. Fruits are scattered on the table and there are tons of dishes that I can't wait to try. His mom is quite the cook.

"Hey mom," Will and I say in unison. Mrs. Adamson insists that I call her mom too.

"Hello Will and Carter. I'll take your basket Will, and you guys can try anything you want!" she smiles her friendly smile.

"Are you sure?" I ask, eyeing the array of sweets and desserts in front of me.

"Food is meant to be eaten," she laughs. That's all the invitation we need. I set my basket down and we both dig in.

My favorite of all her dishes has to be the strawberry tart cups or the sprite Popsicle. The strawberry tart cups are basically little cheesecakes and I could eat them all day, but the sprite Popsicle take the cake. They are just sprite and gummy bears in a Popsicle and I've survived on them for about a week straight, no joke.

"Will, your laundry just finished, go take it up to your room and put them away," she eyes him while he sticks a tart in his mouth. 

"Can I finish eating first?"

"Take whatever you want up to your room, as long as you don't make a mess," 

Will and I look at each other and then grab tons of sweets, probably looking like candy deprived toddlers and walk up to his room with our findings. On his way up, he grabs his laundry basket and sets his plate on top of it while he carries it into his room. 

I love Will's room. 

Half of his room is elevated, so you have to step up to get onto the platform that his bed sits on. The walls all around are plastered with his art or music posters.

In the corner of the platform sits his circular bed with brown sheets and his boombox and collection of CD's, most of which are from me, burning CD's of my favorite artists and some of them even contain a song or two that I perform. He loves it, so I like sharing music with him. In that CD holder happens to contain my 4 favorite CD's in the history of ever- One Direction's "Up All Night", Hunter Hayes' album, Ron Pope's "Atlanta" and finally, Ed Sheeran's "Songs I Wrote with Amy." Will claims to love all of them, but I'll never be completely sure if it's just his politeness or true sincerity. 

On the other end is his art supplies. Will's been interested in art since he could finger paint  When he was 11, he got his first real artist set with legit supplies and an easel, and he surprised everyone with what he created. I wish I could have seen him just starting out as an artist, but to my disadvantage, I moved in at the 7th grade. Now, his works are completely breathtaking. If he doesn't get accepted into art school, I don't know who will. I know that some day, everyone will know his name. He seems to think the opposite though.

"What are you working on right now?" I ask him, gesturing toward his covered easel.

"I just finished it, wanna see?" he says. I nod and walk towards it with him. 

He lifts off the cover and I see one of his best paintings I've ever seen by him. It's truly remarkable.

The painting is of little Rosie wearing a flower crown and a white sundress, hiding behind a tree in a woodsy area while his other sisters are looking for her. The light is coming through the trees and I don't think I've ever seen anything more astonishing. 

"It's okay, I guess," Will shrugs.

"Okay? OKAY? Will, you gotta give yourself more credit. This is beautiful. Have you seen the art these days? People just paint a line and a big dot and call it art, but this is really what it should look like," I tell him sincerely. He just shrugs and puts the cover back on.

"You know, it's not a crime to be proud of your own work. If I write a really good song, I get excited and proud and happy about it. You could at least smile," I say to him. He looks up from his feet and forces a smile. I shoot him a funny face and his fake smile turns into a real one.

"Yeah, okay," he chuckles and grabs his laundry, carefully putting them away in his closet. I claim his bed and lay across the whole thing while he does his laundry.

I eat my candy.

To some people, silence is awkward. Me? I crave it. Will likes silence too, which I think is why we make good friends. 

Suddenly, Will piped up, "I'm sorry if this is boring. I'm not the most entertaining man alive."

"Why, I'd love to do boring things, as long as I'm with you," I smiled.


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