Phobic.

I never thought I'd tire of exploring, moving from place to place, house to house, city to city, with my Dad, my hero, but, as I stroll round the park in yet another new place, I find myself hating it.

I left my old life behind, my old friends, my old school, my old hangouts, my old boyfriend, and I have to rebuild it all, no doubt minus the boyfriend. I check my Sidekick for the umpteenth time, and see no reply from my texts. I warned him when we started dating that I might have to move, and when I broke the news he'd forgotten all about that and blamed me, needless to say he didn’t say goodbye when I left.

I take a glance up at my surroundings, city boy with his technology, in a countryside park, and feel a little out of place. I hadn’t seen anybody in skinny jeans and band shirts yet, they were all 'chav' with their Bench tops and Burberry trousers. Something catches my eye, a flash of white in the greenery, and I place it as a strange nervous looking boy, all in white. I furrow my eyebrows and the curiosity of my city kid attitude gets the better of me, I find I want to know who this kid is.

I glance down as my Sidekick vibrates, hope closing my throat, until I open the message and see its just a spam from my service provider, something about free texts.

I could tell someone was near me, a body on my peripheral vision. A shoulder slams into mine, a flash of white. I would've stumbled back, but the city kid in me kept a strong stance. I murmur something, sorry probably, and think nothing more of it. Then, I hear a scream, realise, and my head whips up to stare at this boy in white. He seems frozen, staring at the shoulder mine collided with, his face contorted into the after effects of his scream. My eyebrows furrow again, and I reach out, touch his shoulder.

"Hey, whoa, are you okay?" The boy jerks his shoulder away from me, almost falls over his own feet, tripping and stumbling until he finds his footing and breaks off into a run.

By now I'm thinking the countryside is a lot more exciting than my first impression, as my curiosity and manners follow the boy to check if he's okay. I find him in a clump of trees, bent double, his chest rising and heaving in short sharp intervals, ragged things, tearing at his chest and being thrown into the air by his convulsing throat.

I find it oddly attractive.

"Hey, mate, are you okay?" I doubt he hears me, he dodges past and sets off at a run again, and I distinctly hear the laughter of the teens by the fountain in the centre of the park. I want to run after him and make sure he's okay. I want to hold him in my arms and whisper sweet, calming things, but I realise, thanks to the way he shrunk from my touch, that what I want isn't going to happen.

I turn back where I came from and my eyes scan the street, so empty compared to the city, for a white head and body, but I don’t see it, and a sigh escapes my lips. I slide my Sidekick shut, and drag my feet slowly down the pavement, taking special care not to step on the cracks, since I'm deep in thought. I smile a little and weave my feet from left to right, my black hair swaying along with my feet and my arms swinging slightly in a childlike manner.

My Sidekick rings, a song I cant be bothered to name, and I slide it up and to my ear.

"Parker, get home."

"Why Dad? I haven't got to be anywhere!"

"Don’t argue Parker, I've got some people coming over for dinner, I need your help to clear this place up and help cook!"

"Fine!" I say, bringing the small device away from my ear and slamming it shut, ending the call. I don’t hurry back home though. I dawdle, taking my time avoiding the cracks and thinking about my strange boy in white. I wonder who he is, why he's like this, and if I can help him.

I dawdle along the streets, not needing to think where I'm going thanks to practise. I've moved to so many different places, and I can still remember the directions to every single one of them. I find the street name of the overpriced house my Dad brought us and tumble down the lane, this time balancing on the kerbstones and laughing quietly to myself. I wonder why I'm laughing, until I identify the bubbling in the pit of my stomach as anticipation, and curiosity, coming flooding back thanks to this new boy, gone since the days of the city and sneaking through the alleys at night.

I walk up the drive, fixing my hair in the window at the front of the house and doing a funny little hardcore dance step before I ring the doorbell, not having my keys cut yet. My Dad answers the door and he scowls for a second before letting me inside past him. I slip off my shoes in the hallway and kick them into the small cupboard at the foot of the stairs.

"Sorry I snapped Parker. I'm under a lot of pressure, with my job and this new house..."

"I know Dad," I say back, rolling up my sleeves and smiling at him, "What do you want me to cook then?"

My Dad smiles.

"Well," He says as I follow him into the kitchen and see a single sheet of paper on the counter instead of the dozens or recipes I'd imagined, "Considering the only thing either of us can cook is burnt beans on toast, I reckon we'd order takeout and pretend we're Chinese culinary geniuses."

"Sounds like a plan!" I smile and find my way into the pristine living room, far from lived in thanks to only being here a few days, "Who're these guests then, eh Dad?"

"People from this new branch of work, the manager of the branch and wife or something, I don’t know." He smiles and runs his hand through his hair, a surprisingly young cut for a father, even though I'm sure he's not that old.

"Find anything nice on your travels?" He asks a while later, trying to make conversation, and I look up at him, and smile, deciding to make the effort.

"Nothing much, it's nothing like the city Dad! So quiet! I found a nice park though, if you like that sort of thing," I watch as Dad smiles, and see that, really, its just the stress and work that's given his face the older look, lines round his mouth and eyes.

"I know it's quiet," He says softly, "But we needed a break from the city, right?"

I sigh and my eyes dart round the magnolia coloured room, "Right..."

"Heard anything from Jake since we moved?" Dad asks and I feel a rush slip from my head to my toes.

"He hasn’t answered my texts, he didn’t say goodbye when we left and apparently he's already fucking a boy from down the park even though I was shagging him only four days ago, and I thought I was still hooked on him right until today when I saw this boy in white who threw up when I bumped into him."

"No, I haven't." I say coldly, "We split up didn’t we, long distance or something like that."

"Oh..." Dad pushes himself up from his armchair and exits the room, sensing I needed time alone to sort through my thoughts. I push myself from my own chair moments later, and slip through the halls upto my room. I close the door behind me and take a long look around. Most of my possessions are still in boxes, but the important things, my iPod speakers, TV, laptop and bed are resting on the boxes, or on the single bed against the wall.

I fall onto the bed and cross my legs, briefly closing my eyes and exhaling before pulling my laptop onto my lap and booting it up. When its loaded I check my Myspace and see there's no comments from Jake, but plenty from my friends back in the city, telling me they miss me already, and they'll come and rescue me as soon as. I smile, despite the lack of response from Jake, and move him right to the bottom of my friends. I do a quick search for my strange boy on Myspace, Bebo, and Facebook, and find nothing, probably because I don’t even know his name. All I did was browse through people in the area for a boy all in white.

I don’t find it and close down Internet Explorer, sitting and staring at my background of me and Jake I haven’t changed yet. I stare at our smiling, kissing lips, his cherry red hair in the choppy emo cut reflecting over my face, turning it a bright shade of red, my black hair clashing so beautifully with his. I see his pale, bony shoulders, the habit he had of never wearing a shirt and the habit he had of ripping mine off. God, I could feel his lips against mine just from the picture, feel his flesh on mine.

I feel a pang of sadness, and quickly right-click, changing the background to one I found of Escape the Fate, my band of the moment. I can still feel Jake's lips, all over my skin and I clench my eyes shut, seeing a flash of white and hearing the sound of retching lungs.

I smile.

My strange boy all in white.

My Sidekick vibrates in my pocket, and I slide it open, seeing the thin black writing that made my chest tighten, '1 New Message From Jake'.

I click open and slowly, tentatively read the message I'd been longing for for days.

Still want me, Parker? Still want to moan my name, just like you did in the factory the day before you fucked off? You always were a dirty little whore. I expect you heard about that boy I've fucked? I imagined it was you, and it was worse sex I'd had, just like you. I don’t miss you, Parker. Get over it baby.

I feel the beginning of a tear brewing in my eye, but I click a few buttons before my finger hovers over 'delete'. I take a deep breath and think of my strange boy all in white.

I hit the button.