All Chapters of Invisible To Her Bully: Chapter 181 - Chapter 190

JessaThe gym feels louder from the bleachers.It always does.Down on the floor, everything looks organized—football players lined up, cheerleaders in formation, the band ready to explode into noise. Up here, it’s chaos. Knees pressed into backs, people yelling over each other, phones already out because apparently nothing counts unless it’s documented.Mariah and I squeeze into a space halfway up the stands, knees angled sideways so we don’t knock the people in front of us unconscious.She’s already bouncing her leg.I notice because she never does that unless she’s nervous or annoyed.Or both.The band hits a sharp opening note and the gym erupts. I clap automatically, letting the noise wash over me, but my eyes are already scanning the floor.Jackson’s easy to spot. Quarterbacks always are. He stands a little straighter, shoulders squared like he’s been trained to take up space without apologizing for it. Noah’s beside him, helmet tucked under his arm, jaw tight but eyes bright.S

JacksonBy the time we lined up for what might be our last drive, my heart was beating so hard it felt like it might punch straight through my pads.RIDGEVILLE – 9CLEARWATER – 14Fourth quarter. Under a minute left.The safety had helped. Two points. A gift from whatever football god decided Clearwater’s QB should panic in his own end zone and eat a sack he never should’ve taken.But it wasn’t enough.Two points made it close.A touchdown would win it.We broke the huddle on Clearwater’s ten-yard line, student section losing their minds, band hammering some off-key version of a hype song, cheerleaders spelling out RIDGEVILLE for the thousandth time.None of it mattered.Right now it was just me, my guys, ten yards of turf…And a clock that was bleeding out.“Trips right, 42 jet fade check,” I called, voice steady even though adrenaline was dumping straight into my veins. “Watch the backside blitz. Carter, don’t let 52 breathe.”Noah grunted. “He’s mine.”We jogged to the line.The wo

JessaSaturday mornings are usually quiet.Not sleepy-quiet—our house has never really mastered that—but familiar quiet. The hum of the fridge. The distant sound of a neighbor’s lawn mower. The creak in the floorboard by the hallway that Jackson still pretends isn’t there even though it’s announced his presence since we were ten.Today, though, my nerves are loud.I’m standing in the kitchen in socks and an oversized T-shirt, pouring cereal into a bowl like it’s a high-stakes operation instead of Cheerios. My hands are shaking just enough that a few pieces bounce onto the counter.It’s Homecoming Day.I keep saying it in my head like if I repeat it enough, it’ll start to feel normal.Homecoming Day.I have a dress.I have a date.I’m going to the dance.My stomach flips again.I’m reaching for the milk when footsteps pad into the kitchen behind me. Heavy, confident—no mistaking it.Jackson.He looks annoyingly relaxed for someone who scored the winning touchdown last night and got cro

JessaOf all the nights I thought would make me nervous, I never expected this one to feel so… quiet.Not quiet like empty.Quiet like something sacred was happening and I didn’t want to interrupt it.My bedroom was warm with the soft yellow glow of the lamp on my dresser. The mirror reflected a version of me that still felt a little unreal—hair half done, dress hanging on the closet door like it was waiting for permission to exist, nerves fluttering low in my stomach.Mom stood behind me, gently brushing through my hair with careful hands.“I swear,” I said, watching our reflections, “Mariah makes this look easy.”She chuckled softly. “Mariah has had a lot of practice.”“And YouTube,” I added. “And confidence.”Mom met my eyes in the mirror. “Confidence comes with time.”I hesitated, then admitted, “I’m… not very good at makeup.”She tilted her head. “You’ve never needed much.”“That’s not what I meant.” I swallowed. “Mariah always does mine. When I try… I just feel like I make it wo

NoahThe gym looked like someone took a normal Friday night and dumped a gallon of glitter on it.Streamers in school colors were draped from the basketball hoops, fairy lights wrapped around the bleachers, and the DJ had the speakers turned up so loud the bass felt like it was thumping straight through my ribs. The dance floor was packed—mostly girls, spinning and laughing like this was the greatest night of their lives, hair bouncing, dresses swishing, arms in the air like they were at a concert instead of Ridgeville’s Homecoming.The guys? We were exactly where you’d expect.Huddled around the tables near the wall, pretending we weren’t impressed, pretending we weren’t clueless, pretending we weren’t counting down the minutes until we could escape back to the comfort zone of food and trash talk.I leaned back in my chair and watched the chaos like it was a nature documentary.Jessa had been pulled into a group of girls the second we walked in—Mariah obviously, a couple cheer girls,