Todos os capítulos de Invisible To Her Bully: Capítulo 131 - Capítulo 140

JessaThe classroom clock ticked so loud it felt like a countdown.Every second stretched thin, echoing in the quiet while I stared blankly at the whiteboard.Mr. Bennett was mid-lecture, pacing like he was trying to burn holes into the tile, but none of it was landing. The words on the board might as well have been in another language. All I could think about was Noah.More specifically, how weird he’d been this morning.He’d still walked me to class, same as always now. He’d smiled, said hey, made small talk — but there was something off in the way he moved, the way he looked anywhere but at me.He’d been there… but not really there.I noticed it right away.Yesterday, he’d been warm — funny, teasing, soft even. Today he felt miles away.I tapped my pencil against the edge of my notebook, pretending to write while my brain replayed every second of our walk.His hands in his pockets.His eyes flicking to the lockers, the floor, anywhere but me.The quick, “See you later, Jess,” befor

JacksonThe bell rang, echoing down the hallway like a buzzer signaling the end of a bad play.Lunch had been weird. Again.I wasn’t even sure why we were all still sitting together — maybe out of habit. But the second someone mentioned Homecoming, it felt like the air got sucked right out of the cafeteria. Noah had gone quiet, Jessa had looked like she wanted to disappear, and I’d just sat there trying to pretend I didn’t notice the awkward tension crackling between them.Now we were heading to our next class, and I couldn’t take it anymore.I shot Noah a look as we cut through the crowd of students. “Alright, man, what’s going on with you?”He blinked. “What?”“Don’t ‘what’ me. You’ve been weird all day. And don’t tell me it’s nothing, because it’s definitely something.”He shoved his hands into his pockets, walking a little faster like he could outpace the conversation. “Just tired, I guess.”“Bullshit,” I said flatly. “You were fine at lunch yesterday, and now you look like you’re

NoahWaking up felt like getting tackled by a linebacker.Not physically — I’d slept, I’d stretched, I’d eaten — but mentally? It felt like my brain had been dragged across gravel.Today mattered.Today I was going to ask Jessa Lombardi to Homecoming.And somehow, that was scarier than a fourth-and-goal play with the game on the line.⸻I pushed through the doors of Ridgeville High with Jackson beside me. He looked annoyingly calm for someone who’d witnessed me pacing my room like a lunatic last night.He spun his locker open and smirked. “Big day.”“Don’t.”He snorted. “Man’s got nerves.”“I do not.”I yanked my locker open — too hard. The metal clanged like it was offended.Jackson stared. “You just ripped your locker open like it owes you money.”“It’s defective.”“Sure,” he said, laughing. “Okay.”I didn’t answer — because I saw her.⸻Jessa.Red sweater today. Hair soft around her face. Books hugged to her chest like armor she didn’t quite need anymore.Not hiding.And damn, she

MariahI always thought dress shopping was supposed to be this magical, sparkly girl-movie moment — twirling, giggling, trying on gowns like princesses in a montage with glitter falling from the ceiling.Instead?It felt like getting slapped across the face by the fashion industry every five minutes.Hard.Jessa and I had been in the mall for two and a half hours, and I was one bad zipper away from fighting a mannequin.“I swear,” I muttered, arms crossed as I glared at the fitting-room doorway, “if this dress looks like a punctuation mark against your chest, I’m suing somebody.”From behind the curtain, Jessa groaned. “I don’t even know what that means, but probably yes.”“It means boob punctuation! They keep designing dresses where your chest is the entire plot.”She snorted, but there wasn’t much humor in it. Not today. Not with the fluorescent lights in this store making everything harsher, sharper, louder — especially the doubts in her head.The curtain slid back.And there she w

Noah The cafeteria always sounded like chaos — trays slamming, someone yelling for hot sauce, sneakers squeaking, and today, Mariah Morales lecturing the universe like she was about to run for office.“I am telling you right now,” she declared, stabbing a fry in the air like it was a microphone, “Homecoming dresses are a scam created by the patriarchy AND capitalism. I needed a financial advisor just to look at the price tag.”Shane coughed on his chocolate milk. “And THIS is why none of us go to dances.”“You don’t go because you still don’t know how deodorant works,” Mariah fired back.He blinked, nodded once. “Touché.”I should’ve laughed harder. Normally I would have. But today everything felt… off-kilter. Like someone tilted the world a few degrees and expected me to pretend I didn’t feel it.Jessa sat beside me, close enough our knees brushed. Close enough that I felt every tiny shift in the air when she moved. She had a soft red sweater on today — not loud, just warm, like fal