I was six years old when they moved here. Harry and Zayn were brothers, they didn't look a like, but they looked out for each other. Their parents were divorced so they only came on the weekends. I hardly knew them but they got to ride around on their bikes a lot, and since they lived only three houses down we would play together. Dad and I would be playing catch or something and they would come riding over and join us, my dad didn't mind though. I always liked his older brother Zayn when I was little, he was more mature and I thought he was cute. I never told anyone though. They lived in a tiny house but they seemed happy and would talk to my parents about how they were, or how their mom was, and where they went to school. They lived with their mom in San Francisco, California in a big nice yellow house about 30 minutes from their dad's house. Then one day they moved and I was little enough not to wonder much. I never asked about them, but I always remembered them, they weren't overly special but I wouldn't forget them. They were the first friends that I lived by.
I was just eight years old when my loving parents got divorced. I was devastated, but I stayed strong for my little brother Harry, he was only five and a half and I knew this was very hard on him too. I remember hearing them fight, Harry and I would be in my room while I had music going on and would read to him to try to keep his mind of what was actually happening. I figured something was wrong but I didn't understand. They were always nice around us trying to hide it, but when they thought we were asleep I could hear them. I overheard them talking about a divorce, and hoped as hard as I could that it wouldn't happen. Then the day came they sat us down and told the horrible news. Harry started crying because he didn't understand why they were separating and thought it was his fault. Mom and Dad insured us we had not caused it in any way, and told us not to worry. They told us how Dad had found a cute little house only half an hour away. We could go to school here, have our friends, and still see dad a lot. It wasn't enough, I wanted them together again. So when dad moved out a couple months later, the house seemed different. School started soon and I got adjusted. I helped Harry when I could. School was okay, I had a couple of friends, but I mostly stuck with Harry. When we would get home we would play video games or go play outside for a bit. At dad's house it was always nice to see him and I loved the house it was small, but cozy and nice. Harry saw a little girl three houses down and wanted to see if she could play. I asked dad about her and he said he didn't know for sure, but she was always nice to her parents, well mannered, and was usually with her dad. He said we could go play and Harry was thrilled to be with someone his own age. Her name was Kirsten and she was very nice to both of us. Her parents were sweet and caring, they would talk to us like people, not just poor little kids. We liked their family a lot but I didn't tell my dad or mom, I talked to Harry about them though. He really liked them too, he said, "They are really nice and I like Kirsten too, I think she's cute." Aww it was Harry's first crush. Whenever we were at our dad's house and she was outside we would go play with her. Dad asked about her occasionally we just said she was fun to play with. Then he decided to move closer to mom, which made it easier to see him but I knew Harry would miss her and so would I. We never did much we just played, or drew on the side walk with chalk, or had her dad give us challenges to do like run around the house and touch the tree in the front. Dad always let us ride around, we would ask her and her dad always said, "No, sorry honey." Her parents were very protective of her. Harry and I never said goodbye to her, we never got the chance.
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