Todos os capítulos de Invisible To Her Bully: Capítulo 71 - Capítulo 80

NoahSleep wasn’t happening.I’d been staring at the ceiling for what had to be two hours, the glow from the digital clock on my nightstand ticking minutes away like it was mocking me. Midnight, then 12:30, then closer to one. Every time I closed my eyes, it was like my brain just pressed play on the same damn reel — Jackson’s face when we nearly came to blows, Jessa’s wide eyes after I kissed her, Daniel running his mouth at the worst possible time, the recruiter watching from the sidelines.It was all scrambled together, messy as hell, and I couldn’t untangle one thought from the next.I kicked the blanket off and sat up, elbows on my knees, dragging my hands down my face. My room was dark except for the streetlight spilling weak orange stripes through the blinds. The house was quiet — Mom asleep, my little brother snoring down the hall. For once, I wasn’t grateful for the silence. It just left too much space for the noise in my head.Jackson had been right at practice. I’d been off

MariahOkay, so… what in the actual teen drama hell did I just witness?One second Jessa was about to go full dragon-breath on Noah Carter at her locker, and the next, Mr. Walking Ego himself stood there looking like a kicked puppy while asking for a chance to talk. To apologize.Apologize.From Noah.I almost checked the sky for fireballs. Because if Noah Carter was suddenly growing a conscience, then clearly the world was ending.Jessa just stood there frozen, like she’d been hit by lightning. Poor girl looked exhausted—her hair a little frizzed, dark circles under her eyes, eyes wide like she couldn’t decide whether to scream, cry, or pass out.Meanwhile me? I was practically vibrating with the need to say something. So I did what I always do: broke the tension with my big mouth.“Well,” I said, whistling low, “that was… something. Did I just hallucinate, or did Noah Carter literally apologize to you?”Jessa blinked at me like she was still buffering. “I—I don’t know.”“Oh, honey,

JessaThe glow of the TV flickered across the living room, splashing the walls with bursts of color and laugh-track echoes. Some reality show about couples arguing in tropical villas played, but I wasn’t even following the plot anymore. I just needed noise. A distraction. Something, anything, to drown out the thoughts buzzing in my head like angry hornets.Homework sat untouched on the coffee table, spread open like an accusation. Math problems I didn’t understand. An essay I hadn’t started. Biology notes I’d pretended to review. I told myself I’d get to it later, after just one more episode. But the truth was, I didn’t want to think. Thinking meant replaying everything that had happened in the last few days—Friday night, Saturday in bed, Monday at school, Noah at my locker this morning.So I sank deeper into the couch cushions and turned the volume up.For a little while, it worked. I even caught myself laughing at a contestant screaming about how she didn’t “come here to make friend

JessaThe door clicked shut behind Noah, and the silence that followed was almost too heavy to breathe in. I stood there for a few seconds, still staring at the space he’d just been standing in. My pulse was hammering against my ribs like it hadn’t quite caught up to the fact that he was gone.He’d shown up on my porch—my porch—looking like he hadn’t slept in days, saying he wanted to talk. Saying he was sorry. And for a moment, for a stupid, fleeting second, I almost believed him.Almost.But then the other part of me, the part that had been picked apart and laughed at and made into a joke, reminded me that believing Noah Carter was dangerous. He had this way of looking at me like I was the only person in the room. And that’s exactly why I couldn’t trust him—because I knew how easily he could make anyone feel like that.I turned away from the door and walked toward the couch, my body moving on autopilot. The TV was still on, the reality show droning in the background. Some girl on th

JessaThe final bell might as well have been a starting gun. Everyone bolted for the exits like they were racing for freedom, voices echoing off the metal lockers and sneakers squeaking against the linoleum.Normally, I’d be part of the rush too — keeping my head down, clutching my books like a shield, pretending not to care that no one ever waited for me. But today I just stood there, staring at my locker like it might open itself.I was exhausted.Not the kind of tired that a nap could fix. The kind that settled deep in your bones — the kind that came from trying to act like everything was fine when your entire world had been quietly rearranged.I could feel eyes on me, whispers slipping through the hallway in that way they always seemed to when my name got tangled up in something that wasn’t supposed to involve me. It had been that way since Friday night. Since the game. Since Noah Carter kissed me and everything went straight to hell.I was still half-shoving books into my bag whe