Todos los capítulos de My Bully Next Door: Capítulo 121 - Capítulo 130

Ella My dad’s old photograph shouldn’t be on Amber’s phone.That thought follows me all the way to the principal’s office.It follows me while Beckett walks beside me without touching me because he knows I’m barely holding myself together. It follows me while Amber explains everything again to Mr. Holloway, and it’s still there when my mother arrives twenty minutes later looking like she left work so fast she forgot to grab her purse.The second she sees the picture, she stops.“Where did you get that?”“Amber had it.”Mom’s eyes move to Amber.Amber immediately shakes her head. “Someone posted it in the chat. I swear.”Mom takes the phone from me and enlarges the picture. Her face changes as she studies it, and for one horrible second I wonder if there’s something else she never told me.“Mom?”“I took this.”I blink. “What?”“Your father didn’t.”She points toward the old car in the driveway. “He was standing beside me. You had just learned to ride without training wheels, and he w

Beckett “He was watching you.”Ella’s words stay in my head long after the call ends.I’m still standing in my kitchen with Mom staring at me and Mason clutching his football against his chest, waiting for somebody to explain why his babysitter and one of my friends are suddenly being discussed like suspects in a crime show.Except Bryce isn’t my friend.Maybe he used to be.That feels worse.“Mom, can you take Mason upstairs?”Her expression hardens. “Beckett—”“Please.”Something in my voice convinces her. She takes Mason’s hand, and he immediately starts protesting that he isn’t a baby and deserves to know what’s happening. Normally I’d laugh.Today I can’t.The second they disappear upstairs, I walk across the street.Ella opens the door before I knock.“You look terrible.”“Thanks.”“I meant—”“I know.”She steps aside.Her mom is sitting at the kitchen table with an officer. Lila is there too, because apparently once Lila decides she’s involved in something, removing her requir

Ella “There was an adult with them.” For a second, I can’t answer. Beckett is sitting so close that his leg presses against mine, and I can feel him go completely still. I put Mrs. Palmer on speaker without asking because I’m done repeating secrets after people finally decide to tell them. “What adult?” Mrs. Palmer sighs. “Coach Daniels.” Beckett’s head snaps toward the phone. “My freshman football coach?” “Yes.” I frown. “Why was he there?” “He came out of the athletic office while Bryce had your backpack. I was inside making copies. I heard boys laughing, but that wasn’t unusual around the locker rooms.” Unfortunately. “What did Coach Daniels do?” Another pause. “He told them to knock it off.” “That’s it?” “At first.” My stomach twists. Mrs. Palmer continues. “I didn’t understand what was happening until later. Coach Daniels came into the office angry and said Bryce was pulling some stupid prank on a freshman girl.” Beckett leans closer. “Did he know it was Ella?”

Ella There is something deeply unsettling about looking around a room full of people and knowing one of them might have been watching you five minutes ago. The picture on my phone was taken that morning. I knew because Beckett was wearing the dark blue hoodie he’d pulled on after I complained that his other one smelled like the inside of a football locker, and because Amber was walking away from us after our conversation. Whoever took it had been close enough to see Beckett’s face. Close enough to hear us, maybe. And now they were sending it to me while we sat inside the school. The officer takes my phone and studies the picture. “Nobody leaves.” Mr. Holloway frowns. “You mean this room?” “I mean the school.” That gets everyone’s attention. Within minutes, the building goes into what the principal calls a hold, which apparently sounds less terrifying than lockdown even though every classroom door closes and nobody is allowed into the hall. Beckett sits beside me. His knee ha

Ella There are certain things nobody tells you about surviving weeks of anonymous harassment. For example, eventually your mother will decide the cure is pizza. Not therapy. Not meditation. Not a long conversation about feelings. Pepperoni. “I ordered two larges,” Mom announces from the kitchen. “And garlic knots.” Beckett looks impressed. “Mrs. James, I have always respected you, but this really takes our relationship to another level.” Mom points at him. “Don’t push it.” “Understood.” I laugh. Actually laugh. It feels strange enough that I stop for a second. Beckett notices. Of course he does. He notices everything now. “Come on.” “Where?” “Outside.” “I just got comfortable.” “You’ve been wearing pajama pants since four.” “They have pockets.” “Congratulations.” I narrow my eyes. “You’re being suspicious.” “I’m being romantic.” “That sounds worse.” He puts a hand over his heart. “You wound me.” “You’ll survive.” “Probably. I’m an athlete.” Mom makes a cho