"Don't worry. You'll love it here," My father, Steve Torres said.

"I wish mom was still here," I blurt out loud.

My father's face dropped, placing the last box on the floor of my new room. I had hit a nerve, he didn't like to talk about my mom.

"Sorry," I apologized.

"It's okay, sweetie. I'll leave you to get settled in, I'm going to go help the movers unload,"

I gave him a small, guilty smile as he left. I'm just smart. Why don't we all make my dad feel more like a lonely widower, shall we?

I walked across to the window seat and sat down, resting my head against the pane. I'm slumming, thank you very much. I just sat their thinking of my mom. About how dad said we had to start over new.

It had been about 10 minutes, before I decided to continuing unpacking. Starting on a box labeled 'Dance Stuff'. I felt a smile appear on my face. I had found my box of mental get-aways.

I opened it up and found my first pair of ballet shoes. I recalled the first lesson I went to, when I was just 6 years old. Eleven years ago.

I finished unloading the box, and putting them so they adorned my vanity. I'm a priss that way. If you couldn't tell my all the white furniture and the baby pink walls. I heard the door shut, which caused me to turn around.

As I did so, I saw my ballet bar. The ballet bar my mom and dad had saved up for, just to get me for my 13th birthday.

I walked over to it, and stroked my hand across the pole.

I placed to hands onto it, and put my feet in a 'V-shape', and began doing stretches. Three words: Out. Of. Shape.

I think I'll go for a run, leave all this stuff for later. Not like I have anything better to do. It's a new town, I have no social life yet. Who am I kidding? I will have no life. I, Mitchie Torres, am a boring individual. No joke. I intern at my father's firm for fun. Oh look, an alliteration.

I looked through the piles of boxes that held my clothes. Finding a dark red tank, black shorts and my running shoes from my cross country running days. I think it was like...three months ago, I'm just over dramatic.

I grabbed my iPod and arm band, slipping it on as I came down the stairs. My dad was assisting with bringing in the kitchen table chairs. Mental thought, what happened to the myth that all movers were hot and rugged. Our are middle aged and scrawny, total let down.

"Going for a run," I announced, putting in my headphones.

I began to jog as soon as my feet left the driveway, heading to a park down the street I had seen while we drove by earlier.

As far as I can tell you, I really need to get back into shape. I haven't even made it a block yet and I already want to die, but with Video Girl by the Jonas Brothers blaring in my ears, I don't really mind. Better than sticking around a house that smells like cardboard and 'brand new house'.

I couldn't hear my music over the roar of the big machine that were working on constructing the new houses in the budding community. Did I forget to tell you, I've got a dirt plot as a neighbor...they're lovely.

I carried on jogging, occasionally having to stop to gain air. The music continued to blast into my ears, my 'excercising' playlist played through for the first time in...oh I don't know. But I at least had made it to the park already. I watched all the little kids and they're parents as I went past the playground. Then past the gated pool, where whorey girls lay beside. Let's let them think they're in the O.C. instead of Pennsylvania.

I continued to run straight. Two guys on skateboards, one with straight hair and the other with curly passed me. The one with curly hair almost knocking into me. How incredibly rude. Suddenly, a strong breeze blew, and I got something in my eye then...BAM! I collided with something, or someone and ended up on the ground, hitting my head on the hard floor.

I sat up, rubbing my arm, "Wow, asshole! Watch where your going!"

"Me? You're the one who ran into me," the boy said, holding his hand out for me to take.

I slapped it away faster than you could say, arabesque.

"I don't nee your help," I spat, picking myself up off the ground and brushing myself off, inspecting to make sure I didn't have any cuts or scrapes.

"Well, sorry," he mumbled.

"You should be," I said, beginning to jog away.

I heard the sound of a skateboard hit the ground and the sound of rolling wheels behind me.

"Hey! Wait up!" he called.

I continued to run, ignoring him.

"I can catch up to you, ya know,"

"Leave...me...alone," I huffed out.

"Just slow down," he told me.

I stopped and turned to him.

"Punk, can I help you with something?" I demanded.

"Geez, cool it princess,"

I rolled my eyes and got back on my pace.

The sound of the skateboard beginning behind me again. Eventually the guy was skating right next to me.

"I'm Shane," he said, pushing off the ground to keep up with me.

I didn't acknowledge him, my eyes dead set on the path in front if me.

"Okay then...what's your name?" Shane asked.

"Mitchie," I breathed, giving him a quick glance.

"Mitchie, that's a cool name Mitch-ayy,"

"Don't do that," I told him.

"Sorry,"

"Hey Shane!" Someone called form behind me.

I glanced back and saw it was the two skateboarders from earlier, the ones that has passed me before this Shane guy started following me.

Shane turned around and went to them, I was relieve that finally wasn't being stalked by him.

I made it past the welcoming arch of the park, when the unholy sound of a skateboard appeared again.

"Hey Mitchie," Shane said.

I just looked at him as I continued running. This guy was already on my last nerve and I had known him for a little more than five minutes.

"Are you just not going to talk to me?" Shane asked, kicking the skateboard with his heel, making the board flip.

I'm not the least bit impressed.

All of the sudden he started circling me, keeping his distance. We both know I would have tripped that boy.

We entered the zone where all the houses looked the same, my new neighborhood.

"Are you bent on following me home or something?" I asked.

Shane held up his arms, "She speaks!" he cried.

"Well?"

"Nah, I live here,"

"Oh great,"

"I know right,"

"I was kidding,"

"I know that too,"

I finally got to my driveway, at least I hope its my driveway. Every house looks the same. I walked to my door, the creeper still following me.

Shane kicked up his skateboard and walked next to me.

"So I guess I'll be seeing you around," he said.

I gosh I hope not.

"Not likely," I told him, walking into my house and slamming the door in his face.

Idiotic punk.

Hallo my readers! I know I've got a million and one stories. But this is beging co-writen with TurnUpTheMusic-x. This was supposed to be a one-shot to Sk8r Boi by Avril Lavinge but we kinda used to concept and twisted it a bit. So I hope you liked it! Bye till later!