She is also always talking about “getting away” from our small town, like it’s some bad place to be. She loves reading about big cities or seeing movies that take place in big cities. One year for her birthday, Jenna asked for a bunch of travel guidebooks to all the big cities in the world, even though she’s only been to one of them: Chicago.

I don’t understand why you’d ever want to leave Bellgrove. This town is home to me. I mean, sure, it would be nice to go somewhere sometimes without being totally recognized, but then again, seeing familiar people is kind of nice.

I like that the person who cuts my hair has been cutting it since I was a baby; that the librarian, Ms. Castro, has known me since even before I could read; and that every year we do the same things, like go apple picking at Green Hills Orchards in September before we get the same hot apple cider at Corner Stop. I like living within a few minutes of just about every single person in my extended family. All those things to me are not just dull things we’re stuck with—they’re traditions and familiar people and they make me feel safe.

I know I’ll have to go to college in another town because there isn’t a college here, but the closest state university, where my mom and dad and aunt and uncle went to school, is about two hours away. Mom keeps reassuring me that I can come home on the weekends if I want to.

When we have these conversations, Jenna just rolls her eyes and says, “Really, Kelsey? Stretch yourself! Open your eyes to new adventures! It’s only two hours away!”

But to be honest, two hours away from everything I know sounds like plenty of an adventure for me.

“So,” Sophia said, jolting me back to the table. “Are you going to try out for the field hockey team like we talked about?”

I nodded. “Yeah, it sounds fun, and Mom really wants me to do something active,” I said.

Mom and Dad are always taking us on walks or bike rides, even when it’s freezing cold outside. I wasn’t too sure how I’d like playing competitively, but I love to be outside, especially in fall when the air turns crisp and smells so good.

“As long as I can still keep my hours working at the restaurant,” I added.

“But your grandparents own the place where you work!” Riley said. “I’m guessing they can work with your schedule!”

“You’d think,” I said, “but Grandpa is a stickler for not giving us special consideration. We still have to clock in a certain amount of hours, unless our grades slip. School comes first.”

“So if you fail a few tests, you can get out of work,” snorted Isabella, or Bella.