Location Transport

Would the difference in our writing styles be distracting? My four friend's and I are writing a story. We are telling them from five different girl's pov. I want to know if the huge differences in our writing styles would take away from the story. Here are samples from me and three others. Me: "That," I pointed to the sky. There were long, thin streaks indicating something had passed through. "Long ranged missals," I said. "Do you suspect Jaylan?" Lizzy asked. "No, I think Bob Beyonce sent them. Of course I suspect Jaylan!" I told her sarcastically. "When Grace returns we have to tell them," Amy noted. "I bet they already know." "Should we warn everyone?" she asked. "No. I do not want to worry them. Just tell them to be careful and to watch out," I said. "Okay," Liz responded as she bounded away. "He wants us," Amy started, "With you he could destroy the rebels and would most likely make you queen. With me, he could easily have any enemy killed with a thought. Allie, with her shifting, would be a great addition to his guard. As would Grace and Lizzy." "Yes, I worry. Hopefully those missiles weren't for us," I agreed. I thought for a moment. "Where'd they go off to today?" I asked. "Some city in Australia; Sydney, I think. They are on some mission to talk to Cockroach and the other leaders of the rebellion. "Huh. It's pretty hard to believe all this," I gestured to the sky, "is our fault. I never thought that we would fail at stopping him." "It's not our fault. The rest of the world should-," Suddenly, there was a rustling in the bushes. I turned around and drew my bow. Lizzy: I stared through the cool, clear water, contemplating the problem and attempting to figure out a solution. So far, that attempt was failing. I sat there on the algae covered rock and sighed. How did I sigh underwater? I have no idea, but somehow, I did. The bottom of the river, which was usually calming, did not help. It only reminded me of my past. Life was so easy back then. I did nothing but play with my siblings and fly around below the water. Now I was battling evil, leading an entire army of girls, and struggling with my own thoughts, and I wasn't even 13 yet. At least i don't have to go to school, I thought miserably. Then again, this was worse. I needed some time to think about what was happening, and beneath the waves of the White River was the perfect location, which of course, Jaylan now knew. I raked my brain, trying to thing of anything we could do to get that chip out of Grace's wings. The only person who could get it out was the person who got it in; one of the Enclade, Jaylan's evil army. Then it hit me-the rebel spies! There were some people who pretended to be on Jaylan's side in order to get information, the same information that could get the chip out! Amy:"Runa!" I cried, running to her side. "Runa, wake up. Don't die. Runa..." I closed my eyes and buried my face in her feathers. "Runa..." I sobbed. I couldn't believe this. Runa, strong, brave Runa, was dead. We'd just lost our best warrior, an excellent mediator, the head of defense for the Amazons... and one of my best friends in the world. I remembered the day she arrived from the south, eager to do anything that would overthrow Jaylan, who had killed her family. I remembered when me and Lizzy had had an argument-I couldn't even remember what it was now, it seemed so stupid- and Runa had intervened, finally getting us to calm down and talk it out. I remembered when I'd gotten severely injured in my wing during a skirmish with some dragons near Chile, and Runa had flown me back to the base on her back for healing. And I remembered two days ago, when she'd insisted on going alone to the vampire fortress, not wanting any of us to get hurt and sure that she could handle it. "Now look, Runa," I whispered. "You're dead. I hope you're happy. And all you got was a stupid... scroll..." I glanced at the scroll, but I couldn’t see it clearly through the haze of tears. I kicked it away angrily and got up. I looked around. "I'm going to my tent." I gulped sown a sob. "Cremate her without me. I don't... I don't want to see it happen." I ran toward the tent at the far end of the clearing. Grace:I sunk down underneath the cool shade of some type of large, leafy tree. Closing my eyes, I tried to think about pleasant things, like cheesecake night at the Amazons mess hall, and my favorite cat in the whole world, Felix. Oh, Felix. He was probably sleeping in a patch of sun in my room, wondering where I had gone. Then I remembered something unpleasant. My leg. The day before, running from the alligator, I had torn open some skin on my leg right under my knee, resulting in about maybe a seven or eight in some of Grace's part didn't make it so here's the rest: inch long slash that hurt like a migraine. That wasn't in my head. And it was already getting infected, which made it kind of hard to run away from things without limping. Yeah, that and the fact that every time I moved the cut reopened and blood started seeping out everywhere, was kind of worrying. What would happen if I lost too much blood, or it got really badly infected and swollen and stuff, and I couldn't do anything? Almost every scenario I could think of ended in me dying. I sighed and leaned my head back against the rough tree bark. I would just have to wait, hang on and hope that my best friends in the entire world would sort things out. So was the difference distracting?