A Bit of Both

Some people can probably relate to me, from being their name is Alana, or, they are fourteen years old, and even that their parents are divorced and they are constantly switching back and forth, back and forth, from one house to the other one, and back to the one before and... yes.
But, I don't think you'll be able to relate to a more personal situation I'm currently stuck in.
Since my parents live in separate places, a good way away form each other, there are bound to be different people in the two places, right?
That's the problem.
There's romantic, understanding Evan down opposite my mums cottage in Brighton, by the coast, and good looking, caring Liam in the flat above my dads, in busy London.
And, because I'm me, I've fallen for them.


1. Oh, hi! Didn't see you there...



Supposedly, I ought to introduce myself and the not so normal story I'm about to tell you because, it's only polite, right? Not that I'm a very polite person of course, hah, you wish.

Let's start with the basics... My name is Alana Grace Williams, and I am fourteen years old. At the ripe age of five my parents divorced, so I'm kind of used to the usual treck on Friday afternoons, leaving behind the comforting, salty sea air engulfing my mums quaint little cottage on the coast of Brighton, to the train in which I travel to my dads confined, cheap little flat, situated in buzzing London.

What I'm not used to though, is sharing personal information to people. This is because I had a supposed 'best friend' in primary. I told her all my secrets, from my parents divorce and whom I had a 'crush' on, to wetting the bed.

She told everyone. My cheeks burned red as snarky comments were spat at me as soon as I entered the class room. Particularly the boys. I'm kind of glad I'm at a all girls secondary now, I guess. There might be no drama about heartbreak, which is more interesting than sitting, listening to the eternal droning of Mrs. Evergreen, but at least I am no longer 'Wet pants' or 'Miss Dodgy Divorce'.

Anyway, enough of that, I want to get onto my story of how I end up falling for two utterly amazing boys. You guessed it. One in Brighton, one in London.

Fabby-Dabby-Doo-Da, is all I can say to that. . .

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