Page 20 of Notice Me, Jameson Hart

“Plus, you’ll get to see Hart in action,” Robbie adds. “Dude’s been giving it his all.”

I fumble the can of green beans I’m holding. It rolls across the floor and stops at Dad’s bare feet as he enters the kitchen.

“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. Lots of 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 glued the toilet lid, clutching the typed confessions that’ve been hiding inside my pillowcase all week. The papers crinkle 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 for years; 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?”

“ Very hypothetically.”

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 not entirely by 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.”

“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 hallway between 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.

I push the door open and find him at his desk, scrolling through TikTok videos on his phone. He glances up.

“Hey, Kev. That was pretty funny with Dad?—”

“I know about Stanford.” The words fall out of my mouth, tumbling to the floor in a jumbled mess.

Adam freezes, his thumb hovering over his phone. “What?” His voice is barely above a whisper.

I step fully into the room and close the door behind me. My legs are jelly, but I force myself to remain upright. “I found your application. The one in the wooden box in your closet. I was snooping—I’m sorry—but I found it and I read it, and I know you’re thinking about going to California.”

Adam sets his phone down slowly, deliberately. His jaw works as if he’s chewing on words before deciding which ones to spit out. “When?”

“A couple of weeks ago. The day all your friends came over after football camp.”

He nods, more to himself than to me. “I wondered. The papers were folded wrong.” A ghost of a smile crosses his face. “You always were terrible at putting things back exactly how you found them.”

“You knew?”

“Suspected.” He leans back in his chair and runs both hands through his hair. “Believe it or not, a part of me is relieved. I’ve been carrying this around for months, and having someone else know?—”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” The hurt bleeds through despite my best efforts to sound neutral.

Adam’s shoulders slump. “How do you tell your brothers that you might want to break up the band? That this whole plan we’ve had since we were kids might not be what you want or need anymore?”

“But we’re supposed to do everything together. That’s what we’ve always said.”

“I know.” His voice cracks slightly. “And that’s the problem, isn’t it? When have any of us ever done anything apart? Truly apart?”

The question hangs between us. I think about all our shared birthdays, shared classes, shared dreams. Even our separate interests—theater and sports—have always orbited around a central truth: we’re the Pryor boys. Inseparable.

“The essay,” I say quietly. “You wrote about wanting to know who you are without us.”

Adam’s eyes widen. “You read the essay too?”

“I read everything. It was beautiful—the part about teamwork and brotherhood.”

Adam shifts in his desk chair, crossing his legs at the ankles. I’m suddenly reminded of all the times we’ve been together, the two of us—after nightmares, before big tests, whenever we needed the silent support of a brother. I love him, and I don’t want to have to let him go.

“I still haven’t finished it,” he says. “I’ve written it out three different times and thrown them all out. I can’t find it in me to bite the bullet.”

“Because of us?”

“Because of you, Robbie, Dad, football—this whole life we’ve built here.” He scrubs his face with his hands. “What if I’m making a huge mistake, Kevin? What if I go all the way to California and realize everything I need is right here?”

“What if you don’t go and spend the rest of your life wondering?”

Adam looks at me, really looks at me, and I see my fears reflected in his eyes. “When did you become this sage?”

“I’ve been taking lessons from Dad.”

I’m relieved that the outcome that I’d been dreading didn’t come to fruition. That there was no yelling, no fists flying, no cold shoulder. But there’s still one crucial piece missing from this conversation.

“You have to tell Robbie,” I say.

“I know.”

“Soon,” I urge.

“Kevin—”

“He deserves to know, Adam. We can’t keep pretending everything’s fine when you’re making decisions that affect us all. He really wants it, the three of us at Arcadia U.”

“I’m not ready.” The words come out strained. “What if he hates me? What if he thinks I’m abandoning him?”

“He won’t hate you.” I’m not entirely sure that’s true, but Adam needs to hear it. “He’ll be hurt, confused, maybe even angry at first. But he won’t hate you. He could never.”

“I keep trying to find the right time, the right words. But every time I’m about to say something, he gives me this big dopey smile, and I can’t.”

“The longer you wait, the worse it’ll be.” It’s what I’ve been telling myself all day.

“I know that too.” He glances up at me. “Will you be there when I tell him?”

The request catches me off guard. “You want me there?”

“You’re the bridge between us. Always have been. Robbie and I are too similar in some ways, too different in others. But you—you get both of us.”

I think about this, about my role as the perpetual middle ground, despite being the youngest. I’m the one who translates between Adam’s intensity and Robbie’s chaos. Maybe that’s my identity after all—not solely as one-third of a triplet, but the glue that holds us all together.

“Okay,” I agree. “But you have to do it soon. No more stalling.”

He nods. “After we get back to practice and things are normal again, I’ll tell him.”

It’s not ideal, but it’s a step in the right direction.

“You know what’s funny? I was terrified you’d tell him before I could,” Adam says. “But you didn’t. You kept my secret even though I never asked you to.”

“Because you’re my brother.”

Adam flashes me a watery smile. “Thanks, Kev. For keeping it quiet and coming to me first. For being you.”

“Someone has to be the responsible one.”

“Pretty sure that’s supposed to be my job.”

“Yeah, well, you’re planning to fly off to California, so I guess it’s up to me to pick up the slack.”

He reaches out to shove me gently, and I shove him right back. Before I know it, we’re wrestling on the floor as if we’re eight years old again. It’s ridiculous and childish and exactly what we both need.

When we finally stop, breathless and laughing, I’m lighter than I’ve been in weeks. The secret’s still there, still disgustingly complicated, but at least I’m not carrying it alone anymore.