Vizkopo Wasserspeier's Story

Rolling swiftly up the long country road to the school, was a black Volkswagen Phaeton, the dark windows hiding the occupants from the rest of the world. Aside from the chauffeur, sitting in the back was Vizkopo Wasserspeier and his uncle, Manfred Wasserspeier, who was being made to come to the school to ensure that Vizkopo actually arrived. It was very clear to Vizkopo that his uncle wanted to be pretty much anywhere but here, just as the rest of the family did not wish to be present.

Vizkopo noted out of the corner of his eye as first one then two taxis sped past the car. 'Einige Schüler haben nicht einmal ihre Familie hier?' he wondered quietly to himself. Vizkopo couldn't turn his head however to look out of the window, the reason being that it had been impressed on him from a very young age that he was to remain perfectly still when people were not talking to him- his family did not want him to do anything to draw the attention of guests at important house parties. The young boys neck and back screamed in agony as he had been sat ramrod straight for the three hour journey, his hands on his knees and his eyes locked on the back of the empty seat before him, even with the years of practice the stillness still hurt after a long time.

As the car pulled up at the school gates, his dour uncle took one last look at his nephew to ensure that his suit was still perfectly pressed, which it of course was, without him moving to cause any new creases. Manfred Wasserspeier was a frightfully grim man, a bald head and constant glare, coupled with a generally monotone voice gave nearly everyone the impression that Manfred cared absolutely nothing about the rest of humanity. If that was not enough to make the man an intolerable as a travelling companion, he had also insisted that the cars radio had been turned off, so the journey had been taken in complete silence.

The car halted just outside the main doors, and the chauffeur quickly jumped out to first to let out Manfred, then Vizkopo, then to get out the boys single small suitcase, that contained the rather spartan 'necessities' his father had deemed were enough to live by for the next four years. Hardly waiting for the chauffeur to catch up, Manfred set off for the door, with Vizkopo following closely behind, his eyes fixed on his shiny suit shoes.
"Denken Sie daran, dies ist Ihre Chance, um Ihre Familie stolz." His uncle dronned.
"Ja Onkel." Vizkopo quietly replied.
"Ich will nicht, um wieder aus hierher kommen, weil Sie eine Szene verursacht."
"Ja Onkel"
"Und sollten Sie besser hart zu arbeiten auf Ihrer Studien. Dies ist eine Schule, kein Verein, Sie sind nicht hier, um Freunde mit geringeren Typen zu machen."
"Ja Onkel."

By that point the two had made their way inside the administration building and Manfred had strode up to the receptionist, but not before casting a grim glare across the room at the gathered children already present.
"Hello, can I help you?" The receptionist cheerfully piped up.
"Yes. I am Manfred Wasserspeier, this is my nephew, Vizkopo Wasserspeier, he is just enrolled here. His parents will not be present" Even in his heavily accented English, he sounded dull and monotone, speaking in short sentences like the language offended. The receptionist clearly chose to ignore the manner in which Manfred spoke.
"Excellent! If you would like to fill out these forms for him then?" She said as she pushed the wad of paper towards him.
"Vizkopo, gehen Sie zu setzen."
"Ja Onkel." Replied the boy as he made his way over to one of the seats, whilst his uncle filled out the forms, still standing at the reception. It was remarkable how different the twos voices were, whilst Manfreds was a dull monotone, Vizkopos was a light, flitting melody, that would make for a wonderful singing voice if the boy was both allowed to sing or had the confidence, instead his voice was always a quiet noise, almost at muttering level, and likewise when he spoke to someone he could very rarely actually look them in the eye. It was hardly a surprise then that he deliberately sat apart from the other children, not out of spite but simply because he wouldn't be able to say anything to them, not because he couldn't speak English, but simply because he wouldn't be able to talk, instead he sat with his eyes fixed on the floor, hardly moving as the chauffeur abandoned his suitcase next to his chair before hurrying back to the car.

"I've filled out stuff like this before, if you need help with what something is asking for. Your parents probably know a lot of this stuff if you ask them for it." Alex told her. Normal parents would probably know. Mine would be angry about the excessive use of paper. She thought with a sigh.

"My parents aren't exactly fans of traditional schooling or traditional anything." She said with an uneasy laugh. Alayna didn't even have a way to contact her parents if she wanted to. Before they had told her that they were sending her to Boarding School, they had been busy planning a trip Brazil for "work." Honestly, she didn't have a clue what they were doing, but the last time she had gone with them out of country they had gotten arrested. It wouldn't surprise her if they were already spending the night in a holding cell somewhere. If nothing else, at least they weren't constantly getting into trouble for drugs.

Alayna continued to fill out the paperwork, and after a few more minutes she had finally finished it to the best of her ability. She was just about to turn it in at the receptionist desk when three boys made their entrances, each one a little more surprising than the last and not at all as low key as the girls had been. One didn't appear to speak English, another didn't speak at all...and one was already screaming profanities. If she were honest, the screaming one was the one that didn't surprise her. Her entire life she had been around people yelling and screaming, people who were angry in general. The quiet ones were unsettling, despite her being a rather quiet individual herself.

"DICKS! Both of you! Giant over inflated dicks!" The boy yelled.

She had noticed the officers had treated him rather roughly and it concerned her. The violence had seemed more than a little unnecessary. He couldn't have been much older than she was.

"Are you okay?" Alayna asked him, holding the clipboard closely to her chest and her face holding an expression of genuine worry. It was her opinion, that children and teens should be treated with care and respect. Not thrown and tossed around like a bag of garbage. Another lesson from her parents, even if they had a skewed view of what safe for someone her age was. Taking her to large scale demonstrations and protests all over the world, in strange places, probably wasn't the best idea...especially when she didn't enjoy them to begin with. She couldn't complain too much though. She had seen more of the world than most adults.

"That was...intense, to say the least." She tacked on. The fact that he had come in in handcuffs didn't particularly bother her, though she was curious. She hadn't met many real criminals and figured that whatever he had done, couldn't be that bad if they were just going to throw him in some boarding school. It wasn't like this was a place for dangerous career criminals.

The arrival of the boy in handcuffs was something of a shock to Vizkopo, though he was used to people shouting it was a new experience to him that they were shouting in English. It was no surprise that he tried to sky away from the boy as far as he could without leaving seat, Manfred on the other simply looked down at the boy with a vicious sneer plastered on his face, before he went back to finishing the last page of the clipboard.

Something drew Vizkopos eye from where the other students were seated, one of the girls was waving to him. A part of him wanted to wave back, but his arm wouldn't lift up and besides, his uncle had told him he wasn't here to make friends. The most he could make in response was two quick blinks in lieu of a smile before he quickly refocused on the floor before his uncle noticed. Just as his eyes darted back to the ground, he realised another girl was looking at him, analysing him perhaps, it was something he was not exactly used to in a positive light and was thoroughly expecting the girl to be trying to find some way to get to him now.

A clatter at the desk was the only sign that Manfred had finished the clipboard of information, followed by the rapidly vanishing clacking of his shoes on the floor as the man simply left his nephew without so much as a look or a thought back at him. Just like that the last connection to his homeland was gone, Vizkopo was completely alone now.

"Vizkopo?" The receptionist called out, looking around at the gathered students. Quickly the boy stood up and grabbed his small suitcase. Though he walked stiffly, with his head down and eyes averted, like always his posture was perfect and his feet never once dragged on the ground, any such behavior was long since done away with by his eagle-eyed mother. "You must be Vizkopo." The receptionist spoke slowly, as if lecturing an idiot. "Your room is 215. You are not allowed on the first floor, but the ground floor is the common rooms." The whole time the woman talked, he kept his eye fixed on the key, no doubt if she even noticed she would have thought he was simply trying to memorise the number. Obviously finished he took the key and started to move to the front door.

"Thank you." He replied quietly as he moved off, though he was not fluent in the language he spoke English just passingly well enough to understand people. If it were not bad enough that his voice was quiet, he also bared a rather notable accent that made vowels even harder to hear unless you were next to him, so he was unsure if the woman even heard him and he simply couldn't bare to turn around to make sure. Instead he quickly made his way to the door, trying hard to get out of the way before the angry boy managed to notice him.