Invisible To Her Bully (Jessa and Noah) novel Chapter 19

Jessa

By Friday, I’ve almost convinced myself that maybe, just maybe, this weekend won’t be so bad.

Mariah and I have plans to binge-watch movies and eat junk food instead of going to another one of Daniel’s wild parties. She promised me a low-stress night, no drama, no spin-the-bottle humiliation, no football players laughing at me behind their red plastic cups.

I need that.

God, I need that.

But as I’m walking to my locker at the end of the day, the universe decides to remind me that good things don’t happen to girls like me.

I see them before they see me.

Jackson.

Daniel.

And Noah.

They’re standing near the trophy case—same spot they always take over like they own the school. Jackson’s got his usual easy grin, soaking up the attention of a couple of cheerleaders hovering nearby. Daniel’s loud, animated, his hands flying as he talks. And Noah…

Noah’s just leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets, looking effortlessly cool without even trying. His hoodie stretches over broad shoulders, dark hair falling perfectly into place like some kind of cruel joke.

I swear the universe gave him every good feature a person could possibly have.

And me? I got… this.

I start to veer off, planning to take the long way to my locker just to avoid them. The last thing I need is to hear another comment about how much space I take up in the hallway or how they can’t believe I’m related to Jackson.

But then Daniel’s voice carries down the hall, loud and obnoxious.

“Man, I hope Jackson’s sister doesn’t come tonight,” he says with a laugh. “Total buzzkill last weekend.”

My entire body goes cold.

For a second, I wonder if I misheard him.

Maybe he wasn’t talking about me. Maybe—

But then he adds, “Spin the bottle was funny and all, but let’s be real. No one wants a repeat of that.”

The guys laugh.

Jackson chuckles, shaking his head like it’s no big deal. “Relax, she won’t come. She hates parties anyway.”

My chest constricts, like someone’s squeezing my heart in a fist.

Noah doesn’t laugh.

He doesn’t say anything at all.

And somehow, that hurts even worse.

Because silence is just as bad as words—maybe worse.

If he cared, he’d say something.

If he cared, he’d tell them to shut up.

If he cared, he wouldn’t just stand there, letting them tear me apart.

But he doesn’t.

He never does.

I duck behind a nearby doorway before they notice me, my vision blurring as hot tears well up.

They think I’m a joke.

A buzzkill.

I bite my lip so hard it almost bleeds, trying to keep quiet. If anyone hears me cry right now, the humiliation will be complete.

The hallway starts spinning, like my body can’t keep up with the flood of emotions crashing through me. Shame, anger, self-loathing—they all mix together, twisting in my gut.

Why did I even bother trying?

Why did I let Mariah talk me into dressing up last weekend?

Why did I think, for even a second, that I could belong in their world?

The answer is painfully clear: I don’t.

I never will.

No matter what I do, I’ll never be like Jackson—confident, popular, adored by everyone who crosses his path.

I’ll never be like those perfect girls who float through parties without a care in the world.

I’m always going to be me.

Too big. Too awkward. Too… wrong.

When we get to Mariah’s house, she grabs my hand before I can get out of the car.

“Jess,” she says softly. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. You know that, right?”

I swallow hard, staring down at our joined hands.

My throat feels raw, like every word will come out jagged and broken.

“I just…” I take a shaky breath. “I don’t get it. Why do I have to be… me?”

Mariah’s eyes fill with sadness. “Jess—”

“No, seriously.” My voice cracks, and the tears finally spill over. “Why couldn’t I have been like Jackson? Why couldn’t I be… good enough? For anyone?”

“You are good enough,” Mariah says fiercely, squeezing my hands. “You just can’t see it because you’ve been surrounded by idiots who don’t appreciate you.”

I shake my head, tears streaming freely now. “Daniel doesn’t want me there. Jackson laughs at me. And Noah…” My voice falters.

Mariah waits, silent and patient.

“Noah doesn’t even care enough to defend me,” I whisper. “He just stands there while they all… tear me apart.”

Mariah’s expression hardens. “Then he doesn’t deserve you either.”

Her words should make me feel better.

They don’t.

Because deep down, I wish Noah did deserve me.

I wish he’d prove everyone wrong and choose me instead of his stupid image.

But he never will.

That night, as Mariah and I sit on her couch watching some cheesy rom-com, I can’t focus on the screen.

I keep picturing Noah standing in that hallway, silent while the guys laughed.

For a moment, I imagine a different version of him—the one who defended me, who told Daniel to shut up, who said I did belong.

But that’s just a fantasy.

The real Noah Carter will never choose me over them.

And maybe it’s time I stopped hoping he would.