Invisible To Her Bully (Jessa and Noah) novel Chapter 263

March in Ridgeville was a liar.

It looked like spring if you squinted–sunlight on the cracked sidewalks, patches of grass pretending they weren’t still half–dead –but the wind still had teeth, and the snow didn’t so much “melt” as it retreated into ugly gray piles that refused to leave. Slush lived in the parking lot like it paid rent. The air smelled like wet pavement and thawing dirt and the weird hope that winter might finally be done with us.

I used to hate mornings like this.

Not because of the weather–because of everything else.

Because walking into Ridgeville High used to feel like stepping into a room where everyone had already decided who I was supposed to be.

Now… it was different.

Not perfect. Just different.

I pulled my jacket tighter as Mariah and I crossed the student lot. She was talking fast, hands flying, like she had a motor in her

chest that never shut off.

“So I’m just saying, if you put one more ‘motivational quote‘ on your planner, I’m calling an exorcist,” she said, nodding toward my notebook like it offended her personally.

I snorted. “It’s not a motivational quote. It’s a reminder.”

“A reminder to what? Breathe? Drink water? Not punch anyone?” She bumped my shoulder. “Who are you and what did you do with the girl who used to hibernate in sarcasm?”

I smiled despite myself, because she wasn’t wrong. Five months ago, I would’ve rolled my eyes and told her to shut up. Five months ago, I would’ve been bracing myself for whatever the hallway decided to throw at me.

Now I walked in and… people mostly just lived their lives.

There were still looks sometimes. Still a comment now and then. But I’d learned something that felt both depressing and freeing:

Most people were too busy being obsessed with themselves to stay obsessed with me.

And the ones who weren’t?

The ones who still had something to say?

That was on them.

Mariah nudged me again. “You’re thinking too hard I can see it in your forehead”

“My forehead?” I repeated.

“Yeah. It does this thing when you’re about to spiral It’s like a warning label” she swung open the front doors. “Come on. I’ve got to drop my stuff at my locker before first period or I’ll end up carrying my entire life around agath”

We stepped into the building, warmth hitting my face, the familiar hum of voices bouncing off the lockers and the tile floors The hallway smelled like cheap deodorant and cafeteria syrup and the weird metal tang of school air.

I spotted Noah before I even meant to.

He was at his locker with Jackson–like always–shoulders broad in a way that made people naturally shift around him. He had

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his backpack slung over one shoulder, head bent, laughing at something Jackson said. Not the loud kind of laugh that demanded attention. The real kind.

The kind that still made my stomach do that ridiculous fluttery thing even after months.

When Noah glanced up and saw me, his expression changed instantly–softened, warmed–like I was the best part of his morning. He shut his locker and started toward me without hesitation.

No pause. No checking who was watching. No second–guessing.

Just him.

“Morning,” he said, low enough that it felt like it belonged only to me.

“Morning,” I answered, and I hated how easy my smile came. Like my face didn’t even ask my brain for permission anymor

Noah’s hand slid to my waist, pulling me in. Not possessive. Not showy. Familiar. Like we’d done it a thousand times, because we had. His mouth brushed my temple–warm, quick, steady.

My cheeks went hot anyway.

Mariah made a satisfied noise beside me, like she’d just witnessed a successful science experiment. She didn’t tease like she used to. Not cruel, not condescending–just this quiet, pleased little energy like she’d been waiting her whole life to see me happy and now she was collecting it like evidence.

Jackson groaned dramatically as he joined us. “Okay. Enough. I just ate breakfast.”

Noah smirked. “Jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” Jackson snapped on reflex, then immediately looked irritated that he’d sounded like he cared. He pointed at Noah. “Just–remember she’s my sister.”

Noah lifted a brow. “The man who let his girlfriend sleep on top of him like a human blanket is giving me boundaries?”

Mariah choked on a laugh. Jackson froze.

“What?” I said, because my brain latched onto the words like a dog with a chew toy.

Jackson’s eyes widened like he realized what Noah had just thrown into the hallway like a grenade.

He lunged for Noah’s shoulder. “You’re such an idiot.”

Noah dodged, laughing. “Relax. I’m kidding.”

“Not funny,” Jackson muttered, but his ears were pink.

A couple of kids walking past turned their heads. One of them some guy from the football team I vaguely recognized paused. eyebrows shooting up like he’d just heard the most interesting thing in the world.

“Wait,” he said slowly, looking between Jackson and Mariah. “Yo Morales, you really

Mariah didn’t miss a beat. She leaned in, smiled sweetly, and said, “Keep walking unless you want to lose your ability lay speak”

The guy immediately turned and disappeared into the crowd like he had somewhere urgent to be

Jackson exhaled through his nose. “This school lives for drama.”

Noah’s smile faded a little, like he knew that better than anyone. He squeezed my waist gently. “Yeah, Well That’s their hobby,

not ours.”

I looked up at him, and something in my chest loosened.

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Not because Ridgeville had suddenly become a safe, kind place.

Because Noah made it feel like I wasn’t trapped inside it anymore.

The bell rang then–sharp and unavoidable.

Noah released me but not fully; his hand stayed for a second longer than it needed to, fingers brushing my side like a promise. I’ll walk you to class.”

“You don’t have to,” I said automatically, even though I liked when he did.

He tilted his head. “I want to.”

And there it was–so simple it made me want to cry and laugh at the same time.

“Okay,” I murmured.

Mariah waved her hand like she was dismissing us to go be adorable somewhere else. “Go. Before I start charging admission

Noah and I stepped away, and I could still feel Jackson’s eyes on my back like he was trying to act normal while his entire life rearranged itself in real time.

Halfway down the hall, Noah leaned closer. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I said too fast.

He looked at me like he didn’t buy it.

I added, quieter, “I’m good. Really.”

He studied my face for a beat, then nodded. “Okay. But if you start doing that thing where you pretend you’re fine while your brain is on fire, I’m calling you out.”

“My brain is not on fire.”

Noah’s mouth twitched. “It is. I can see the smoke.”

I laughed, and he smiled like that was the whole point.

By lunchtime, Ridgeville felt like Ridgeville again.

Not in a cruel way. In a loud way.

The cafeteria was a wall of noise–trays clanging, kids yelling across tables, someone’s earbuds blasting tinny music. It was chaos that somehow always felt the same no matter how many months passed.

Our table had become a weird little island of people who didn’t quite match on paper, but somehow worked anyway

Me. Mariali. Noah. Jackson. A couple of football guys who had gradually started sitting with us like it was norital Like we’d always been this way.

Shane was there chewing aggressively like he had beef with his sandwich Chris, the one who could never stop talking, was two seats down, making exaggerated hand motions while he complained alunt something Tort was not at our table, thank God, though I saw her across the room with a pack of girls, flipping her hair like she was auditioning for a shampoo commercial

And for a moment, everything felt almost… easy.

Then Jackson cleared his throat.

Noah glanced at him. “You about to say something dramatic?”

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Jackson shot him a look. “No.”

“Yes, you are,” Mariah said, popping a fry into her mouth. “Your throat–clear was literally a warning siren.”

Jackson ignored her, eyes flicking to Noah. Then to me. Like he was checking something, bracing for how it would land.

“Recruiter called Coach,” he said finally.

The words weren’t loud, but they landed heavy.

Noah’s posture shifted immediately–subtle, but real. “About scholarships?”

Jackson nodded. “Coach pulled me in yesterday. Again.”

Mariah’s face tightened. “Why?”

Jackson’s jaw flexed once. He didn’t look at me when he answered, which told me exactly how much he hated this.

“Because of ‘character concerns,“” he said, voice flat. “Because apparently someone with too much time and too little brain decided to send that stupid post around. Like directly. To emails. To adults.”

My stomach sank.

Noah swore under his breath. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish.” Jackson’s laugh was short and humorless. “Coach said the recruiter asked if I’m focused on football or if I’m part of a‘ circus.“”

Mariah’s eyes went sharp. “Circus.”

Jackson shrugged like he didn’t care, but I could see it in the way his fingers curled around his water bottle. “Coach handled it. He told them the truth. That it was fake. That it was cyberbullying.”

Shane muttered, “People are psycho.”

Chris frowned. “Wait, so–like–this could’ve actually messed with your scholarship?”

Jackson’s eyes flicked up, and for once he didn’t look like the quarterback everyone worshipped. He looked like my twin. Like a kid who carried too much.

“Yeah,” he said simply. “It could’ve.”

Silence sat on the table for a second. Even the cafeteria noise felt far away.

Noah’s hand slid under the table and found my knee, squeezing once. Grounding me.

I stared at Jackson, my throat tight.

He tried so hard to act like none of it mattered. Like he was fine. Like he could handle anything

But I knew him.

I knew what that fear looked like when it tried to hide behind anger.

Mariah exhaled slowly, the kind of breath you take when you want to throw a chair through a wall but you’re trying to be. civilized. “So Ridgeville’s hobby almost cost you your future”

Jackson’s mouth tightened. “Yeah.”

Noah’s gaze went distant for a second–like he was hearing the same thing for himself too. Because it wasn’t just Jackson. It was all of us, in different ways. The way this place could take a rumor and turn it into a weapon.

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I felt something shift in my chest.

Not fear.

Anger.

The clean kind.

The kind that didn’t make me want to hide. The kind that made me want to leave.

And that thought–leave–hit so hard it almost made me dizzy.

Because it was sitting in my backpack like a secret heartbeat.

A letter.

An acceptance.

A door out.

Noah squeezed my knee again, and I forced my face to stay neutral. Forced myself to smile at something Shane said. Forced