Page 37 of Notice Me, Jameson Hart
“He still does that.”
“I know.” Dad grins. “My point is, secrets have a way of coming out, especially in families. The question is whether you address it directly or wait for them to come to you.”
“But what if waiting means people get hurt worse later?”
Dad considers this, leaning back slightly. The tub groans in protest. “Sometimes, telling someone you know their secret can be a relief for them. It takes the pressure off having to figure out how to reveal it themselves. But?—”
Whatever wisdom he’s about to impart is cut short as his center of gravity shifts too far. His eyes widen comically as he windmills his arms, trying to regain balance.
“Dad!”
But it’s too late. With a tremendous yelp that’s undoubtedly going to bring my brothers running, Dad tips backward into the tub. His long legs fly up, flip-flops pointing at the ceiling, while his back hits the bottom of the tub with a thud that shakes the whole bathroom.
“Ow,” he groans, wedged in the tub, resembling an upside-down turtle.
I burst out laughing. A full-body shaking, tears-streaming-down-my-face hysteria.
“Oh, laugh it up,” Dad grumbles, trying and failing to right himself. His legs kick uselessly in the air. “Kev, help your old man out of here before your brothers see this.”
“I should take a picture,” I gasp between laughs. “For social media.”
“Don’t you dare.”
I grab his ankles and pull, but he’s stuck tight. I try again, and it’s like trying to play tug-of-war with a boulder. Soon, we’re both laughing, the serious conversation completely derailed by the absurdity of the situation.
The door flies open, and Adam and Robbie burst inside at the same time, getting stuck in the doorway. Adam wears his usual mesh gym shorts and Arcadia Knights football hoodie with the sleeves shoved up. Robbie rocks a shirt with a cartoon dinosaur lifting weights and sweats that are three inches too short for his legs. His cheek has a smear of bright-orange Doritos dust, and in his hand is a single chip, poised to be used as a weapon.
Adam’s brows flatten, taking in the scene. “What the hell happened here?” His voice comes out weird because he’s half laughing, half concerned, and a third flavor of absolute disbelief.Robbie, meanwhile, just points both hands (and the Dorito) at the spectacle of Dad’s legs kicking in the tub.
I try to keep a straight face, but one snort escapes me, and it’s all over. Robbie drops the Dorito, leans against the door frame, and howls. Adam covers his mouth, but his shoulders shake.
Dad, whose dignity is clearly on life support, tries to play it off. “Boys, I just got off balance. I’m perfectly fine.”
“You don’t look fine,” Adam says, finally removing himself from between Robbie and the doorjamb and walking the rest of the way into the bathroom. He clocks my hands around Dad’s ankle. “Need some help?”
“Please,” Dad and I say in unison.
Adam and Robbie each take an ankle while I move over and grab an arm. After several minutes of tugging, Dad finally pops free like a cork leaving a bottle.
“Nobody speaks of this,” he pants, his face red from exertion and embarrassment. “Ever.”
“Oh, this is absolutely going to be discussed at family gatherings,” Robbie says as he and Adam walk out, shaking their heads in amusement.
Dad straightens his shirt and runs a hand through his hair. “Where were we?” He leans against the sink, a much safer choice. “Ah, right. Secrets.”
“I’m carrying this huge weight around my neck,” I say to him. “And it gets heavier whenever I allow myself to think about it.”
He crosses his arms and considers his next words carefully. “You need to assess whether revealing that you found this secret out by snooping is worth the potential fallout. Can you live with the thought of this person being betrayed or angry over the invasion of their privacy if it means exposing this secret?”
“I think it’s worth it. I can’t keep pretending I don’t know.”
Dad nods. “Then you have your answer. And Kevin?” He places a warm hand on my shoulder. “Whatever happens, I’m here for you.”
“Thanks, Dad.” I hug him, breathing in his Old Spice cologne.
The hallwaybetween my shared room with Robbie and Adam’s has always been no more than a few feet apart. But tonight, it’s somehow longer than the Great Wall of China. Steeling myself, I puff out my chest and march down the hall before I lose my nerve and run back into my room. My knuckles rap against his door—three quick knocks that sound way too loud in the evening quiet.
“Come in,” Adam calls.
