In the year 2015 a British family moved to America. They had a small reputation. The father was a maths teacher, and the students decided to try and push him around.
One day at the school an art class told him about the school production tryouts, that were after school. Since he liked music, he decided to go and have a look at the talent.
After school came, he went in and sat at the back. There was a lot of talent to say the least. Two students came on stage, did a song and dance, then sat back down. It was like this for almost two hours. Then a boy came up on his own.
“ Name dear” said Miss Willcock, as she changed the page in her note book.
“Timmy Tyler” said the young boy, fiddling with his fingers. Bleep, bleep, bleep. Miss Willcock’s phone had received a text message. She looked at it, got up and said. “Oh, I am ever so sorry dear. Ok everyone, the parts will be up in the drama studio tomorrow.” Then she left with everyone. Everyone except Timmy.
Mr Lomas, the father of the family, went down to the stage. Timmy looked up and sunk his head back into his hands. Mr Lomas saw tears coming down his disappointed face.
“ You don’t mind me going on the piano, do ya?” Mr Lomas said gently so he didn’t hurt Timmy anymore than he was. Timmy nodded his head as Mr Lomas went to sit on the seat. “what song was you going to sing dude?” he said as if he was Miss Willcock. Timmy rose his head and looked at him with disbelief and as if he was losing his sanity.
“You wouldn’t know it. Your just a maths teacher” Timmy answered back with gritted teeth. He started to walk off.
“Try me.” Mr Lomas said. Timmy froze., then turned on his heal. “I’m waiting.” He taunted.
“Runaway by Pink.” Timmy replied, hoping he wouldn’t know it. But, as much as he hoped, he was wrong. The maths teacher started playing the song on the piano perfectly, then stopped.
“You was suppose to sing.” He said and started again.
Timmy got up on stage and closed his eyes. “I’ve got my things packed, my favourite pillow. Got my sleeping bag, climbed out the window. All the pictures and pain, I’ve left behind. All the freedom and fame, I’ve gotta find. And I wonder how long it will take them to notice that I’ve gone. And I wonder how far away it will take me to runaway, runaway, runaway. I was just trying to be my self. You can go your way, I’ll meet you in hell. All these secrets that I shouldn’t tell. I’ve got to runaway. It’s hypocritical of you. Do as you say, not as you do. I’ll never be your perfect girl. I’ve got to runaway.” He stopped as to say that’s what he would have shown Miss Willcock.