Invisible To Her Bully のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 241 - チャプター 250

Jackson I barely made it through the front door before I knew something was wrong.The house was too quiet.Not the normal kind of quiet — not Mom-at-work quiet, not Jessa-in-her-room quiet.This was the kind of quiet that felt like walking into a storm.Then I saw her.Mom was standing in the living room, arms crossed so tight it looked like she was holding herself together by force alone. Her purse was still on the chair like she hadn’t even taken a second to breathe after coming home.Her eyes locked on me.“Jackson.”My stomach dropped.“Hey…” I started, forcing my voice casual. “What’s—”“We need to talk. Now.”The way she said it made my chest tighten.I set my backpack down slowly. “Okay…”She took one step forward.And then she just said it.Flat out.“Am I going to be a grandmother?”I froze.For a second, I honestly thought I misheard her.“…What?”Her voice rose, sharp with panic and anger.“Don’t play dumb with me. Answer the question.”My brain scrambled to catch up.“Mo

JessaI watched Jackson mutter something under his breath and stalk off toward the stairs.His bedroom door shut a second later.The sound echoed in the house like punctuation.For a moment, it was just me and Mom standing in the living room, the air still thick with everything that had just happened.I turned slowly.“…Was that really necessary?” I asked.Mom’s face tightened, like she’d been holding herself together by sheer will.“Jessa,” she said quietly, “you have no idea what it’s like being a parent.”I blinked.Especially not what it’s like being a single mother with a son.She exhaled shakily, rubbing a hand over her forehead.“I can’t be there for him in the ways he needs,” she admitted. “There are things a boy needs his father for. Guidance. Conversations. Perspective.”Her voice cracked.“And unfortunately… that’s not happening.”My throat tightened.Mom looked down, like she couldn’t even meet my eyes.“When I saw that post today… I felt like I failed him. Like I’ve faile

MariahThe next morning felt heavier than it should have.Not dramatic-heavy.Just… weighted.Like the air outside the school doors knew something I didn’t.Jessa and I walked in together, our boots squeaking slightly against the damp tile from everyone tracking in melted snow. She was mid-sentence about something her biology teacher said yesterday, animated in that way she gets when she forgets to overthink herself.“And I swear he looked at the frog diagram like it personally offended him,” she said. “Like sir, you chose this profession.”I snorted. “Maybe he wanted dolphins.”She laughed, bumping her shoulder lightly against mine.It felt normal.That’s what’s weird about school.Everything can feel normal for exactly five seconds before it doesn’t.The first hint was the way two girls near the water fountain went quiet when we passed.Not giggling.Not whispering louder.Just… stopping.Jessa didn’t seem to notice.Or maybe she did and chose not to.I noticed.I always notice.We

JacksonThe walk to the administration office felt longer than it should have.Not physically.Mentally.Because every step there felt like I was dragging the entire school’s stupidity behind me.Mariah walked beside me, quiet in a way that wasn’t normal for her. Usually she filled space with something—sarcasm, commentary, a jab at someone’s outfit.Today she was just… there.Calm on the outside.I knew her well enough to know that meant she was pissed.Behind us, Noah had peeled off toward class after making sure we were actually going to the office and not just starting a hallway brawl. One of the assistant principals had seen the whole locker situation and told us to come down.So here we were.The administration office smelled like stale coffee and printer ink.A woman at the front desk barely glanced up.“Name?”“Jackson Lombardi.”She typed something slowly.“And?”I gestured beside me. “Mariah Morales.”More typing.Then she pointed down the hall. “Mr. Caldwell can see you.”Gr

JessaFriday nights at Ridgeville used to feel intimidating.Too loud.Too bright.Too much.But this one felt different.It was the guys’ last home game of the year.Senior night.Even though technically not everyone on the team was done-done, this was it for them under these lights. Under this scoreboard. On this field that had been their whole world since freshman year.The cafeteria buzzed louder than usual at lunch. Posters about the game were taped everywhere. Someone had painted GO RIDGEVILLE across one of the hallway windows in blue and white.It should have felt exciting.It did feel exciting.But there was this undercurrent now — something always humming beneath the surface.Like everyone was waiting for the next thing to explode.I sat at our usual table, pushing my fork around a salad I wasn’t really eating.Noah slid into the seat beside me, shoulder brushing mine automatically.That small contact.So natural now.Still makes my stomach flutter a little.“Hey,” he said qu