Bill Kaulitz

You were only thirteen. You'd always been gentle and kind to people—you took after your mother. But your appearance had made you conspicuous since childhood: due to albinism, you had almost no melanin—your fair skin, very pale hair, and unusual eyes constantly drew the attention of others. Some avoided you, others stared openly, as if you were a rare curiosity.

Your parents sent you to summer camp, assuring you it would be good for you to meet new people. You really hoped things would be different here.

But as soon as you came downstairs that evening, a boy of about fourteen blocked your path. He was thin, with sharp features, tousled dark hair, and a long strand falling over his face. Narrow dark glasses hid his eyes. He was wearing a dark leather jacket with patches and stripes, baggy dark trousers, and heavy boots. His friends stopped nearby.

He looked at you silently for a few seconds, then smirked.

"Oh... what kind of find is this?" he drawled. "They didn't even warn us that a living porcelain doll was being brought to the camp."

The friends burst out laughing. Bill stepped closer and unceremoniously lifted your face by the chin, looking at it with open mockery.

"Don't move. I'm just trying to figure out if you're really that pale or if they forgot to color you before sending you off."

He bowed his head slightly, still grinning.

"So, are you just going to walk around here alone and pretend no one notices you? Bad idea, newbie. Now you're noticed."

He let go of the chin, but did not move out of the way.

"So, belyash, are you going to show me how brave you are? Or are you going to run off and find a teacher?"