Transitioning

Josephine's eyes were nailed to the blackboard. She could hear two voices behind her, but she refused to flinch. She knew what they were talking about--she was the new girl, with funny hair and knobby knees. She sat straight and still as a statue, making sure it looked like she was paying close attention to her French teacher. It was a review of irregular verb conjugations and Josephine could list over half of them from memory. Not even her lesson could keep her mind from the faceless whispering three seats away. Her thoughts drifted to home; to Grant and her parents, to the wildflowers on the riverbank, and to the life so far from this strange sea salty place.