Invisible To Her Bully (Jessa and Noah) novel Chapter 44

Jessa

I yanked open the passenger door of Mariah’s car and tossed my bag onto the floorboard with way more force than necessary. The slam of the door rattled the whole vehicle, and Mariah raised her eyebrows at me, already knowing something was up.

“Good morning to you too,” she said dryly, putting the car into drive. “What’s with the dramatic entrance? Did your mom forget to buy coffee or something?”

I folded my arms tightly across my chest, staring straight ahead. My throat felt tight, my heart pounding like I’d just sprinted down the driveway instead of stomping out of my house. “Just drive,” I muttered, my voice sharp and low.

Mariah gave me a side glance. “Oh no, no, no. You don’t get to say ‘just drive’ like you’re in some action movie. Spill it, Jessa. What happened?”

My jaw clenched. I didn’t want to talk about it — not really. If I said it out loud, it would make it real. But the anger boiling inside me wouldn’t stay contained, and by the time we reached the end of my street, it came spilling out in a rush.

“I’m tired, Mariah,” I snapped, my voice trembling. “So freaking tired of never being enough. Of never being seen.”

Mariah’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, but she didn’t interrupt.

“I’m right there,” I went on, my words coming faster now, my anger bubbling over. “Right there in the same house, the same school, the same hallways as everyone else, and it’s like I don’t even exist. I try to blend in — and I’m invisible. I try to stand out — and I get laughed at.” My voice cracked, and I swiped at my cheek before a tear could fall. “It’s like no matter what I do, I can’t win. I can’t ever win.”

Mariah’s lips pressed into a tight line, but she stayed quiet, her gaze flicking between the road and me.

“And then this morning…” My chest heaved as I struggled to get the words out. “Noah. He just—” I stopped, shaking my head because saying his name hurt almost as much as his words. “He made another one of his stupid little comments about what I eat, like he’s some perfect judge of what I should and shouldn’t do with my body. Like he doesn’t even see how hard I’m trying to—” My voice broke.

I slammed my hand against my knee in frustration. “God, Mariah, I hate it. I hate me sometimes. I hate that I let everyone’s opinions rule how I feel about myself. I hate that I care so much.”

For a moment, the only sound was the hum of the engine and my ragged breathing.

Finally, Mariah blew out a long sigh and pulled into a parking lot just shy of the main road. She put the car in park and turned to face me fully, her expression softening.

“Well,” she said, a little smirk tugging at her lips, “it’s about damn time Jessa Lombardi finally emerged from her little cocoon.”

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