So we’re going to the bank. And of course my friend Lucy’s mom works there. Because you can’t go anywhere in this town without knowing someone.

“Well, hi, honey,” she said. “Are you getting your own savings account? I’ll bet you’re saving all that summer money for new clothes!”

“Nope,” said Dad. “This is college money.”

“Oh, I see,” she said, smiling. “In that case, let’s make this official.” She started typing information into the computer. “Okay. I have your address because I know it….” She tapped the keyboard some more.

See what I mean? Everyone knows who I am and where I live. I wonder if people at the bank know how much money we have too.

After a few minutes, it was all set up. Afterward Dad showed me how to make a deposit and gave me my own bank card too.

I was so excited, not only because I had my own bank account, which felt very grown-up, but because the Dream Account was now crossed off my list, which meant I was that much closer to making my dream come true. I was almost hopping up and down in my seat in the car.

“You really want to get out of here, don’t you?” asked Dad, and when he said it, it wasn’t in his usual joking way. He sounded a little worried, and I immediately felt bad. It wasn’t as if I just wanted to get away from Dad.

“You know,” he said thoughtfully, “I get it.”

“You do?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “I was the same way. I was itchy. I wanted to go see the big wide world.”

We both stared ahead of us.

“I don’t want to go to get away from you and Skylar,” I said.

Dad nodded.

“But think of Wetsy Betsy.”

Dad looked confused. “Who is Wetsy Betsy?”

“Wetsy Betsy is Elizabeth Ellis. In kindergarten she had an accident and wet her pants. And even now, like, seven years later, kids still call her Wetsy Betsy. It’s like once you’re known as something here, you can’t shake it. You can’t…” I trailed off.

“You can’t reinvent yourself, you mean?” asked Dad.

“Exactly!” I said. “You are who you are and you can’t ever change.” I could tell Dad’s mind was spinning.

“So who are you?” he asked after a few more minutes.

“What?” I asked.

“Who are you?” Dad asked. “If Elizabeth Ellis is Wetsy Betsy, then who are you?”

I took a deep breath. “I’m the girl whose mother died. I sometimes hear kids whisper about it when I walk by.”

I saw Dad grimace. I looked out the window so I wouldn’t have to watch him. We stayed quiet the rest of the way home.

We pulled up into our driveway and Dad turned off the car, but he didn’t get out.