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.


1. Chapter one.

"Adding and then division?" Micheal struggles, not showing a hint of embarrassment even though he's getting the problem that we learned how to do in the fourth grade wrong. I have no idea who let him in the AP Math class when he can't solve 2+2.

"No, Micheal. If any of you remember your fourth grade lessons, please enlighten me. May I remind you that you will be seniors next year," Mrs. Turner sighs and rubs her temples. No one dares to raise their hands, scared to be openly mocked by the funniest, wittiest, teacher in this whole school.

"Wow.... this is awkward. How about you, Carter? Were you present during the fourth grade?" the teacher says, crossing her arms and leaning on the whiteboard. I snap my head up at the sound of my name and a few kids snicker, due to the fact that I'm always off somewhere else instead of class. I look over to Will for assurance, and he nods at me. I silently curse myself for taking class with Mrs. Turner. 

"Anytime today, Carter," Mrs. Turner fake yawns and almost the whole class is chuckling.

"Parenthesis go first, then exponents, and multiplication and division are equals, so you can do those whatever order you would like, and then addition and subtraction are equals, so you can do those whatever order you like," I answer not confidently. Kind of like a loser.

"Thank you. Micheal was too busy kissing girls and didn't decide to learn anything whatsoever besides flirting tips to know that," Mrs. Turner says with her sassy attitude. Everyone laughs but is cut off by the bell. Everyone rushes to grab their stuff.

"Do you think the bell gets you out of homework? Page 146 and 147. Every problem on both pages," the sassy math teacher orders us. Everyone groans and slumps their shoulders, but cheers up when they remember that we're supposed to be going to lunch. 

Will walks over to me wearing his backpack with only one strap. Cause you know, two straps is just weird.

"Are you going to ditch me for the library again?" he asks with a sad face. Lately, I've been eating in the library, telling him I'm studying, to get away from the populars.

"Why don't you come to the library with me? It gets quite lonely," I laugh.

"How about a big fat NO? You need to embrace being around the people who hate your guts. It's good for your character," he laughs.

"That's easy for you to say. They don't hate you and your luscious locks," I say, making fun of his brunette shag that he takes great pride in.

"Don't make fun of him," he says grabbing his head with both hands. 

"Him?" I laugh.

"Yes. My mane is to be appreciated," he informs me for the thousandth time. 

"Mane? Please. Unless you're talking about the skin of a Yorkie instead of a lion, then you would be correct,"

"You know you love him," 

"Whatever makes you happy, babystache," 

He puts his fingers above his lips to where he says he has a mustache that really doesn't exist with fake sadness.

I laugh and he shakes off the sarcasm. 

"I guess we could go to the lunchroom. But if anything bad happens, you're buying me a Coldstone after school," I shake my head as we enter the cafeteria.

My eyes dart back and forth to all the swarming and hungry adolescents. My palms start to sweat and my mind is rushing to a zillion places at once.

Yep. High School.

Will and I secure a spot in line for.... pizza I guess. We weren't really looking for the choice, but to get out of the swarm. It's insane how many people this school has. It's a bit bigger than the average high school, so I guess they thought they could squeeze in an extra 500 kids. Good idea. This is why adults suck.

I grab a tray and shuffle down the line. I narrow my choices down to bad or worse. I decide on bad, and go with cold pizza topped with mystery meat, a questionable looking fruit that I can't distinguish, and a water bottle. Will grabbed the same thing as me, trying to avoid puking after lunch period. 

After we pay for the overpriced crap, we lock our eyes on our usual table. Jaiden, Jordan, and Asher wave us over, eyeing the people trying to steal our seats.The only problem, more populars who enjoy throwing food at each other and yelling profanities. And it just so happens to be the only way to get to our table. Just great. 

At first everything was fine. We were just walking over to our seats and clutching our trays, but some loser just had to stick their leg out on purpose to trip me. I drop my lunch everywhere. Then I start to hear girlish screaming. I think queen bee Kelly got some of the fruit on her shoes. (I know they're new because she's been telling everyone she meets. Talk about lame.)

Will hurries and helps me up with one hand and pulls me toward our lunch table, whilst I'm as red as a tomato and trying to ignore the whole lunchroom erupting in laughter. 

I sit down at our table and bury my face in my hands.

"How come the bad things always happen to me?" I whine.

"You're a trouble magnet?" Jaiden tries.

"You're secretly a vampire and everyone's jealous of your super speed?" Jordan guesses.

"They think you're cool and it's an initiation to get into the Barbie sorority?" Asher tries.

"Or they just don't get how awesome you are," Will gives me an encouraging smile and flicks mystery meat off my shoulder.

"Well at least I don't have to eat that crap," I shrug and Asher gives me some goldfish from his home lunch.

I love our gang.

Jaiden is the only friend I have that is a girl. We both got stuck with boy names, so we stick together.

Jordan and Asher are identical twins who look exactly like Finn and Jack Harries. It's scary.

And then there's Will. We're the only ones who can call him that. Everyone else calls him William. He's like my best friend in the history of ever. I met him when I moved to Massachusetts when I was six and we've been inseparable friends since then. We picked up Jaiden, Jordan, and Asher on the sad journey that is middle school and now we're a gang.

But the thing is, I'm the only loser in this gang. Jordan and Asher look like Finn and Jack Harries, and Finn and Jack are very attractive people. Not to mention they're BRITISH. I just can't deal with their hotness. They moved here from central London in the 7th grade, and it's a mystery to me why they chose our wimpy group to join, but hey, I'm not complaining. Jaiden looks like Chloe Grace Moretz and Will is like a Hollister model, and then there's me. I couldn't even model for the Gap. 

Or maybe that's just me. People always tell me I'm pretty, but I'm stubborn. I always look far into the flaws of something and don't realize they're already good enough.

"Looks like we're going to Coldstone after school," I tell Will.

"You think you guys could get ice cream without us?" Jordan fake frowns.

"Duh, you guys are always invited," I laugh.

"I'm treating," Will states.

"Big spender," Jaiden says sarcastically.

"You know it," he says and we all laugh for no reason. 

I look over to Kelly to see she's still obsessing over her shoes and keeps screaming at people. Are there any normal people at this school besides us?

"Maybe I should go say sorry...." I say, feeling sorry. But then I remember that the whole reason I fell is because of her group.

"HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAH no," Jordan says and we all laugh. 

We talk about how our sub in Science kept stumbling around and dropping the test tubes while we finish our lunches.

Ever too soon, lunch comes to an end and I almost sprint to my next class, but of course, I don't, because then I'd look even weirder than I normally do, so I repress myself and walk into the music room like a civilized student. Who am I kidding, I could never be civilized.

I'm in the advanced music composing class. It's my favorite class in this universe. The teacher basically just sets us loose in a classroom full of instruments and we can write whatever we want and share some of our music occasionally.

I grab my guitar that I bring to school everyday and sit on a stool while taking it out of it's case. I'm actually really glad I don't have this class with anyone I know, so I can just get lost in the music and not care about keeping a conversation going. It bothers me so much when I'm trying to get into the zone and someone keeps interrupting me with stupid questions and meaningless chitchat.

Everyone has their things. The things that nothing else can replace. The things that they're good at. The things that make them forget about anything. Music is my thing.

I play the piano, ukulele  bass, drums, guitar, flute, violin, and I sing. Nobody will ever know about the singing part. I could never. The only person who's heard me sing is Will, and even that was an accident.

It was a couple months ago when Will got his new pick up truck. He was so psyched about it, and he insisted I go on his first drive with him. He blasted the radio and it was some of the classic catchy summer songs, so then we both started singing and laughing and we rolled the windows down and everything. The car was rocking because of all our seat-dancing and it was so fun. Afterwards, he asked me why I didn't ever sing before in front of him, and I had no answer. And he's pretty good at keeping secrets.

I lose myself in the song I'm writing to the guitar. After a good 30 minutes, I look up from my guitar and notebook to see people gathered around me, watching me intently.

"No, keep going," says a girl I've never talked to in my life.

"That was awesome," some random dude says and everyone nods.

I redden and set my guitar down.

"It's nothing," I sigh and move the hair away from my face.

"It's something. I've been listening to your songs for a bit and they're really good. You just need to sing louder so everyone can hear you," the same guy says.

"Nah, I'm good," I laugh nervously. Luckily, Mr. Sovner saves me and makes everyone go back to their own compositions. 

Too soon, the bell rings and I'm forced to leave the only place in the school where I feel safe and into the Jungle that we refer to as High School. 

I'm heading to  AP English. I actually don't mind that class. Writing is something that comes naturally to me, and it's a huge part of my life. Well, my secret life, that is. I actually have that class with Jordan and Asher, (They have almost every class together because their mom is on the schoolboard) so I'm pretty psyched to talk to them. I'm out of the zone, so I'm good with conversation now.

It always feels so weird once you've just been completely focusing on something, and then you stop. It's like I feel sorta disoriented when I grab my AP English binder out of my locker and head to Mrs. Kesler's room, in between Jordan and Asher. They say hi and then we work on our starters once the bell rings. Our teacher is insanely cool, but she can get a bit mad if you get out of place.

"Well guys, thanks for doing your starter semi quietly. Anyways, I'm going to cut the crap and go straight to our assignment," our mental teacher states, followed by the class' groaning.

"Actually, I think you guys are going to like this unit. It's from now until the end of the year. We, individually, are going to enter the national writing championship. You can either bring a laptop from home, with the risk of getting it taken, or use the crappy mac ones here, it's your choice. But we'll be typing it on Word and sending it in by Christmas break. And yes, it's required. The story can be about whatever you like. Just go nuts... while keeping it school appropriate, that is. Questions?" she announces.

"How are we supposed to do this by Christmas?" Micheal asks.

"Um, reality check, it's September, and you guys are 17 and not kids. I think you can handle it," she laughs. 

I'm actually insanely excited for this. I've entered the contest before, but I never really got anywhere with it. But this is the year. I've become so much better at writing with all my experience. 

"We'll start writing tomorrow, so bring your flashdrives or equipment. But for now, I believe you have an essay on Napoleon due today. And if you wrote about Napoleon Dynamite, you can just rip your paper up now before I do," she says and goes around to collect our essays. At least 5 guys in the class do so. I pull out my 20 page report, presented in a clean cut purple folder. I have too much free time. Jordan obviously doesn't.

"I did it, it's in here," he mutters. His whole backpack is spread across the floor, like a hurricane just happened at his desk. Mrs. Kesler takes notice.

"Is Jordan here?" she asks sarcastically. He pokes his head out from under the desk.

"I'm sorry, but I misplaced my paper. It was a quality 20 page paper, all posh and everything. Do you think I could have an extension date?" he asks, with all his British charm. Even the teacher can't resist it.

"Sure Jordan. Make sure to have it here next week, since you've been on good behavior," she says and collects mine and Asher's paper. He looks back at us and laughs quietly. 

"Works every time," he whispers through the laugh, and Asher and I roll our eyes and laugh along. Jordan is very forgetful.

We listen to a lecture about To Kill a Mockingbird and she lets us out early when she's done. I have time to clean out my locker a bit before I head to Anatomy. Before I throw away a stack of papers, I see an old note from Will on the top of the pile. We're always passing notes. Whether it's under desks if we're in the same class, or in the locker if we're not. We use a special code that I made up when we were kids and we still use it. You put random letters separating the real letters that spell the word. Like this: thzi hwzhtamtns mucp? That says, "Hi whats up". It's a bit confusing. You'll catch on.

I remember this note. He stuck it in my locker after I was going through a rough time when school started in late early August. Kelly made it her life goal to humiliate me and it happened at least twice a day. I can't believe she turned out so bad. Decoded, this is what it says:

"Dear Socially Awkward,

Try and forget about Kelly. She'll back off if you don't give her the reaction that she craves. (She needs it to feed her ego the size of China). I say we celebrate, since you made it through another week of that jerk. I'll bring the Japanese candy and you host. We'll watch Les Miserables again, so we can suppress your excitement for the movie on Christmas. Just you, me, Jean Valjean, and foreign candy. What do you say? Just like the old movie days we'd use to have.

Don't be sad over Kelly. She's not worth it.


The Magician."

Don't ask where the nicknames came from. I don't know either.

We do movie nights regularly now ever since then. Sometimes we invite Jordan and Asher, because Jaiden is always busy with her theater.

The way he made it sound, you may think there is something romantic there. 

Trust me, there isn't. 

Once there was even a rumor that we were going on. And then there was a rumor that I was going out with both of the twins, both rumors far from true.

Anyways, I slip the note in my binder pocket and head over to  Anatomy class. Reading the note took me too long, so I slide in my seat next to some random kid right as the bell rings.I look two rows in front of me to see Will writing something down. He then wraps the paper around a pen, seals it with tape, and rolls it under his seat and to mine.

I check to see if the teacher is still taking roll and pick it up. It says this:

"ywaheaut gsyhuoluid nwhe hwtactfcyh jtiognhirgyhat rfuoer FNMN?"

Decoded, it asks what we should watch for Friday Night Movie Night. I reply with:

"uIkm gfrelehijnyg bmuifdhnyiugyhet ziun apeayroifs," I write back and roll it over to him. (I'm feeling Midnight in Paris). He unfolds it, nods, and scribbles something, then passes it back.

"YcIouoyl. Yarsthietris rfiauvuoeruiythe." (Cool. Asher's favorite.) ,"Nbyuet Riym eRiuknonhihnsg hluodw iosn fcuajnydiy. Ewiotriltd gMiakrukteit eayfktienr oiecue vcermeiakm?" (But I'm running low on candy. World Market after ice cream?) 

He looks back at me and I nod instead of going through the trouble of writing a whole other note.

We get lectured on smoking and she lets us out late, due to losers in the back who were messing around. I have to book it all the way to Statistics at the other end of the school. 

That class drags along slowly, since I don't have Will to look back at me and kill me with hilarious faces during the lesson.

When school finally ends, I put my unneeded books back in my locker and walk to Will's truck. He's leaning against it, trying to look all cool, but he hilariously fails, and he knows it.

Jordan, Asher, and Jaiden are in the back of the truck, checking to see if they have all of their books for their weekend homework. I slip into the front seat, my bag crashing to the floor of the car with a thud from the heavy books. Will starts the car and turns the music on. One of the old summer songs plays, so we dance along to it and laugh like idiots until we get to Coldstone.

Coldstone is so familiar to me, since I'm here so much now. This is where Will works, so we always joke around when he acts like he's spending his real money on our ice cream, but in reality, he's using his store credits. He knows what everyone likes though, so it's fun to see him order from his friends who work there.

"I need one Chocolate Dream with extra twix bars and caramel, one Honeydew Heaven with fresh raspberries on top, one Cotton Candy Carnival with sprinkles, one Birthday cake with cake pieces on the top, and one Cookies and Dream," he orders from his mind, not having to ask us what we want.

He pays and grabs his Chocolate Dream. I grab my Honeydew Heaven. Jaiden grabs Cotton Candy Carnival for her. Asher grabs the Birthday Cake and Jordan grabs Cookies and Dream.

We sit down at our normal booth in the back and talk about school and random things. We remember some of our old jokes, and think of new things we need to do. We end up staying for over and hour, but have to leave to drop Jaiden off at Improv class.

"Where to next?" Asher asks, lying his head on Will's shoulder rest.

"World Market for foreign candy and drinks," Will informs him and drives us over to my favorite store in this universe. I'm lucky enough to have snagged a job here, because they usually don't hire minors. 

We walk into the store and are instantly greeted by the familiar smell of my second home. 

You see, this store is the coolest. A lot of the stuff is imported from around the world, so it's the only place you can snag foreign snacks, furniture, and cool stuff. It's so weird that no one really knows what this store is, because it's a huge part of my life.

Will heads to the food, Jordan and Asher wander to the toys, and I walk to the new stuff section. There's a new set of notebooks from India with intricate designs made out of fake jewels on the covers, and little toys from India and Paris.

I am obsessed with notebooks. I have so many at home, it's not even funny. There's something that excites me about a blank notebook or piece of paper, like there's a world of possibilities, just waiting to be written down and discovered.

I know, I'm weird.

But Jordan, Asher, and Will know about my notebook obsession, and always feed it. Let's just say, if I wanted to stop, they would not be the people to go to. They're always giving me new notebooks on Whatever Day, and I love it.

Soon, we meet back at the register. Will has two baskets full of food and drinks for our foreign cravings, and Jordan and Asher each find another little toy to occupy their wandering minds. I grabbed my notebooks, since I couldn't bear to part with them. We each throw the needed amount of money needed for our own items on the register as my friend Delilah checks us out. Luckily, I get a discount, so we have change for our nearly empty wallets.

Then we walk out of the store and back into the car, and head back to my house. 

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