Page 36 of Notice Me, Jameson Hart
“Welcome back, hunters and gatherers,” he says, surveying our haul. “Looks like we’ll survive another week.”
“Kevin’s coming to practice when the rain stops,” Adam announces.
Dad raises an eyebrow at me. “Yeah? Good for you. About time you saw what your brothers do all day.” He helps us put the rest of the groceries away. “Just remember to put on some sunscreen before you go. And bring water.Lotsof water. I don’t need to get a phone call from your brothers saying that you’re in the hospital for dehydration.”
“I’ll be prepared.”
I’m gluedthe toilet lid, clutching the typed confessions that’ve been hiding inside my pillowcase all week. The paperscrinkle as I smooth them out on my lap. I scan the words I’ve rehearsed hundreds of times until they blur together.
Adam, I need to tell you something. I know about Stanford.
Too direct. I flip to the second draft.
Hey, remember when you said we should be honest with each other? Well…
Too passive-aggressive. The third attempt isn’t much better.
I was cleaning your room and accidentally found?—
Someone pounds on the door, and I nearly topple sideways off the toilet seat. The papers slip from my fingers and flutter down to the floor.
“Just a minute!” I squeak, scrambling to grab the pages. “I’m—I’m pooping!”
The door opens anyway.
“Dad!” I yelp, shoving the papers into the wastebasket beside the toilet in the nick of time. “I said I was pooping!”
He steps inside and closes the door behind him, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Kevin, you’ve been in here for over thirty minutes.” He tilts his head and studies me with those all-knowing dad eyes. “Either you’re in here having some fun?—”
“DAD!” My face burns hotter than the surface of the sun.
“—or you’re having some kind of medical emergency, in which case I should be loading you into the van right now and taking you to the ER.” He moves toward the tub. “Since you’re fully clothed and not doubled over in pain, I’m guessing it’s something else.” He attempts to perch on the edge of the bathtub, but his substantial frame barely fits on the narrow porcelain rim. After a bit of readjusting, he ends up reminding me of The Thinker statue.
“Dad, maybe you should stand.”
“I’m fine. Now, want to tell me what’s going on?”
I stare at my mismatched socks. One is blue with white polka dots, and the other is green with pink stripes. I’ve had them foryears; I call them my comfort socks. And right now, I need all the comfort I can get. “It’s nothing.”
“Kevin.” His voice carries that gentle but firm tone that always makes me cave. “Talk to me.”
The words stick in my throat. How do I explain this without admitting I’m a snoop? Without betraying Adam’s trust even more than I already have?
“Hypothetically,” I say slowly, “what would you do if you knew something about someone—something big—that they haven’t told anyone else?”
Dad’s eyebrows rise. “Hypothetically?”
“Veryhypothetically.”
He shifts again, and I hear the distinct sound of his cotton sweats sliding against porcelain. “Well, that depends. Is this secret something that could hurt them or others?”
“No, nothing like that. It’s more…” I struggle for the right words. “Like they’re planning something that affects everyone, but they’re keeping it to themselves because they might be afraid of how people will react.”
“Ah.” Dad nods knowingly. “And you found out by accident?”
“Maybe notentirelyby accident.”
He chuckles. “You know, when you boys were little, Adam used to hide his Halloween candy in a shoebox under his bed. Thought he was so clever.”
