Though the last four years my twin brother, Matthew, had been the family’s black sheep. It all started when my parents got divorced, and my mother moved to a little town far away. It was like she didn’t want anything to do with me and my brother, and it still is. My father has always been the opposite. He makes sure that we know that he will do what’s necessary to make us happy. My brother and I live with him, in a city nearby London, called Dartford. I never see my mother. She has a new family now. I guess we weren’t good enough for her, which bothers Matthew a lot. She left us 5 years ago, and we are now both 17.
Since we started in High School, my brother has been hanging out with some boys, which I don’t like. Either does my father. My father has always said that those boys are trouble. And my father is right. They are bullying some younger kids, smoking and taking drugs, and they might even steal. I’m worried about him; he’s not the person that I used to be. I won’t to help him, but I can’t as long as he barely talks to me. I have always been a good kid, done my homework, and helped my family and friends, and so on. But that doesn’t make my father more proud of me than my brother. But he hoped that I could help him, and he was right. I should do something; I just didn’t know what to do.
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