Invisible To Her Bully (Jessa and Noah) novel Chapter 182

Noah

By the end of the second quarter, I was already mad at everything.

The scoreboard glared back at us like it was mocking us.

RIDGEVILLE – 7

CLEARWATER 14

–

One stupid touchdown.

One blown coverage on third–and–long.

One busted block where I got chipped just enough for their linebacker to blow up our running back in the backfield.

The kind of mistakes we knew better than to make.

“Lock in!” Coach screamed from the sideline, voice hoarse and raw. “Stay sharp! This isn’t a

scrimmage, Carter, get your damn hands inside!”

“Yes, sir!” I yelled back, even though I was already lining up for the next snap.

We dug in. Jackson called the play, voice sharp and clipped under the stadium lights. The crowd noise rose – drums pounding, cheerleaders shouting, students chanting from the stands.

I tried to tune it all out.

Helmet. Hands. Feet. Block.

Focus.

—

The ball snapped, and everything compressed into seconds contact, pushing, driving my guy back just enough for Jackson to get the throw off. The pass sailed, hit our receiver’s hands-

And bounced right out.

Incomplete.

The booing started before the whistle even blew.

Jackson yanked his helmet off halfway to the sideline, running a hand through his sweaty hair, jaw clenched so hard I could see the muscle ticking from where I jogged beside him.

“Relax,” I muttered. “We’re not dead yet.”

“Tell the scoreboard that,” he snapped, then shook his head. “Sorry. I’m good.”

We hit the bench as the defense went out. Coach stalked the sideline like a storm cloud.

“Two minutes, boys!” he bellowed. “You give up one more big play before half and you’ll be running

1/7

Chapter 192

gassers in dress shoes before Homecoming!”

A couple of guys groaned weakly.

I sucked air and grabbed a squirt bottle, watching the clock bleed down.

1:45.

1:12.

+25 Bonus

0:39.

Finally, mercifully, the whistle blew to end the half.

The buzzer blared. The band launched into some victory–sounding nonsense Clearwater did not deserve.

I was already ready to sprint to the locker room when Coach’s voice cut through the chaos.

“Lombardi! Carter! Reyes!” he barked. “Front and center!”

The three of us turned.

Jackson grimaced. “Here we go.”

We jogged over.

Coach glared at us like we’d personally invented Homecoming. “You three have to go play dress–up for the halftime circus, right?”

“Yes, sir,” Jackson said, not quite hiding the annoyance.

Coach blew out a breath through his nose. “This dog–and–pony show is the dumbest thing the school makes us do in the middle of a damn game.”

“Agreed,” Reyes muttered.

Coach shot him a look, then shook his head. “But it is what it is. You represent this team out there. So you go smile, wave, let them put whatever shiny crap on your heads they feel like, and then you get your asses back in here so we can fix this mess. Clear?”

“Yes, sir,” we chorused.

He jabbed a finger at our chests. “And don’t let this distract you. Clearwater thinks they’ve got you rattled. Prove them wrong in the second half.”

Jackson nodded. “We will.”

—

Coach’s expression softened just barely. “Good luck,” he said, like the words tasted weird on his tongue. “Now get off my sideline. The rest of your teammates and I have adjustments to make.”

He turned and herded the rest of the guys toward the tunnel, barking corrections before they even disappeared inside.

We watched them go.

2/7

Chapter 182

+25 Bonus

Reyes snorted. “Well. Guess it’s showtime.”

“Can’t wait,” Jackson said dryly. “Nothing like losing a game and then immediately having to wave at people like it’s a parade.”

I smirked. “You’re just mad because you know you’re gonna win.”

“Shut up,” he muttered, but there was a flicker of nerves there.

A voice behind us squealed, “Oh my God, are we lining up yet?!”

We turned.

The five girls on the court were clustered near the fifty, all perfect hair and curled lashes and dresses that sparkled even under the stadium lights. They looked like they’d been ripped from the cover of some Homecoming catalog – confident, excited, not a hint of sweat.

One of them, Tori from cheer, adjusted her sash and grinned at us. “You boys ready to be pretty for the cameras?”

Reyes held up his helmet. “This is as pretty as it gets.”

–

(l

One of the other guys on the court Allen, wide receiver, ridiculously pretty in that guy–who–knows–it shrugged. “I’m all about the Homecoming game. But this?” He gestured at the whole setup. This is definitely more your thing than ours.”

way

Tori flipped her hair. “Please. This is survival. Do you know how long it took to get this eyeliner even?”

The girls laughed and huddled together, checking lipstick, adjusting straps, comparing heels. They radiated some kind of collective giddy energy.

We were the opposite.

Jackson leaned in closer and muttered under his breath, “Just get this over with. This whole court thing is way more for them.”

“Facts,” Reyes said.

I shifted my helmet from hand to hand, suddenly hyper aware of the stands.

Of the student section.

Of the pair of eyes I knew were somewhere up there.

I scanned the crowd.

–

+25 Bonus

“And now,” the principal announced, milking the pause like he’d been waiting his whole life for this, ” your 2025 Ridgeville Homecoming Queen is…”

He stiffened like someone had replaced his