Invisible To Her Bully (Jessa and Noah) novel Chapter 166

**Hearts Written in Silent Rain by Ava Bloomfield**

**Chapter 166**

Jackson

By the time Wednesday rolled around, Ridgeville High had a palpable sense of unease hanging in the air.

It wasn’t the kind of chaos that typically filled the halls, nor was it the loud, boisterous laughter that echoed off the walls. Instead, it was a heavy tension, a collective pretense that everything was fine while we all braced ourselves for the next inevitable eruption. The whispers that followed me were like shadows, creeping and curling around my thoughts:

“Did you hear?”

“Daniel’s gone.”

“No, like—gone gone.”

I tried to shake it off, tried to immerse myself in the routine of the day. Yet, even Noah, typically my rock, wore an expression of discomfort that sent a chill down my spine. That was never a good sign.

As I stepped into the locker room, the familiar scent of sweat and metal enveloped me, but before I could even take three steps, Shane’s voice cut through the air.

“Yo, Lombardi. You hear yet?”

I turned to face him, my heart racing. Shane—ever the loyal friend, one of the few who had stood by Daniel through thick and thin, even when Daniel had morphed into someone unrecognizable—was leaning against the wall. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, shoulders tense as if he were bracing for a storm.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, tossing my bag onto a nearby bench with more force than necessary.

He hesitated, and that hesitation twisted my stomach into knots.

“Daniel’s transferring,” he finally said.

Time seemed to freeze around me.

“What?” I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended. “When?”

“Like… right now,” Shane muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “They’re pulling his school records today. He won’t be back.”

A wave of shock washed over me, mixing with an emotion I was desperate to ignore.

Sure, Coach had kicked Daniel off the team. That was a significant blow. But leaving Ridgeville altogether? That was something else entirely.

“Why?” I managed to ask, my voice low, almost a plea for understanding.

Shane let out a humorless laugh that echoed in the empty locker room. “Why? Seriously? Dude, you saw the fallout. The videos, the comments, the crap he pulled at the party… and then getting thrown off the team? His dad was furious. Stormed into the building this morning.”

I rubbed my jaw, my gaze drifting away as I processed the weight of his words. This was bigger than I had anticipated, and it struck me in an unsettling way.

“I thought he’d just…” I swallowed hard, searching for the right words. “Take the suspension and move on.”

“Jackson,” Shane said, his tone gentle yet firm, “Coach didn’t suspend him. He kicked him off. He’s done here.”

Silence enveloped me, thick and suffocating.

Because Shane was right. Coach didn’t offer second chances. He dealt out consequences.

Severe ones.

Still… transferring?

Shane shifted closer, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret.

“He said it’s because of your sister.”

My head snapped up, confusion and anger swirling within me. “What the hell does that mean?”

“You know Daniel,” Shane replied, shrugging slowly, as if the weight of the truth was too heavy to bear. “He blames everyone but himself. He told people Jessa ‘ruined his life.’ That if it wasn’t for her, he’d still be on the team, still be here, still have a shot at playing in college.”

My fists clenched involuntarily, the anger bubbling just beneath the surface.

“Unbelievable,” I muttered, my voice laced with disbelief. “He humiliates her, torments her, tries to drag her into a freezing pool, and now he’s the victim? I’m not defending him. I’m just telling you what he said.”

Shane raised his hands in a placating gesture.

I took a deep breath, trying to keep the irritation from boiling over into something uncontrollable.

“Still,” Shane continued, his voice softer, “it sucks watching him go. Even if he deserved it. You know? It’s just… weird.”

And he wasn’t wrong.

Part of me felt indifferent.

Part of me felt a strange sense of relief.

Part of me recognized that something from the past had just been yanked from its roots—painful, but ultimately necessary.

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