Invisible To Her Bully Chapter 63

Jessa

I stayed curled up in bed, the covers pulled tight around me like a shield, trying to block out the world. My room was dim — blinds drawn, the faint morning light barely slipping through the cracks. My phone buzzed on the nightstand for what felt like the hundredth time, but I didn’t even look at it.

I couldn’t.

If I saw Noah’s name… or worse, a message from someone laughing at me… I might shatter completely.

The house was unusually quiet. Mom had left for work at dawn, and Jackson had been pacing the hall outside my room for a while earlier, but he hadn’t come in. Good. The last thing I needed was a lecture from my perfect twin brother, Mr. Star Quarterback himself.

My head throbbed from all the crying I’d done last night. My eyes were puffy and raw, my throat sore, my heart… wrecked.

The images from the bonfire kept replaying in my head like some sick movie reel: Noah kissing me in that empty classroom, the way his lips felt on mine, the dizzy rush of hope it gave me.

Then Daniel’s voice.

The laughter.

The way everything flipped in an instant.

The realization that I had been nothing but a joke.

A sharp knock on my door made me flinch. “Jessa?”

Mariah.

I groaned, burying my face deeper into my pillow. “Go away, Riah.”

“Yeah, no,” she said flatly through the door. A second later, it creaked open, and she slipped inside like she owned the place, closing it firmly behind her. “You’ve been hiding in here all morning. I’m not letting you turn into a hermit crab over this.”

“I’m not hiding,” I muttered, my voice muffled by the blanket. “I just… don’t want to talk.”

Mariah crossed the room and plopped down on the edge of my bed, ignoring my very clear go away vibe. “Tough. You need to talk.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.” She tugged at my blanket like she was trying to peel me out of a cocoon. “You’ve been through hell, and you’re just… what? Gonna rot in here forever while everyone else moves on with their lives?”

“Maybe,” I grumbled, clutching the covers tighter. “Sounds like a solid plan.”

Mariah sighed loudly — the kind of sigh only she could pull off, full of exaggerated exasperation and love all at once.

“Jessa, please. Look, I get it. Last night sucked. Like, Olympic-level, gold medal suckage. But you can’t just shut down like this. It’s Saturday. The world didn’t end.”

“It did for me,” I whispered before I could stop myself.

That finally got me to sit up a little, though I kept the blanket wrapped around me like a cape.

Mariah’s expression softened instantly, her sass melting into genuine concern.

“Oh, babe.” She scooted closer, her voice gentler now. “Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”

I swallowed hard, staring at the rumpled comforter instead of her.

“I’m just… so tired, Riah. Tired of trying. Tired of being the butt of every joke. Tired of never being enough.” My voice cracked, and tears pricked my eyes again.

Mariah reached for my hand, but I pulled back, hugging my knees.

“I’m right there, in front of everyone, every single day, and it’s like I’m invisible. And when I do try to stand out, when I try to be different, they just laugh harder. Daniel, those girls at school, even…” My throat closed, and I couldn’t say Noah’s name. “…even people I thought I could trust.”

Mariah’s jaw tightened, anger flashing in her eyes. “Those idiots don’t get to define you, Jessa. You hear me? They don’t get to break you like this.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “They already have.”

“No,” she said firmly, tilting my chin up so I had to look at her. “You just don’t realize how strong you are yet. They want you to feel small because it makes them feel big. Screw that.”

“I don’t feel strong,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “I feel pathetic. Like maybe Daniel’s right and I’ll never be anything but the embarrassing twin who drags Jackson down. The girl Noah kissed because of some stupid dare or… or pity.”

The tears came then, hot and fast. I tried to turn away, but Mariah didn’t let me. She wrapped me in a fierce hug, rocking me like I was a little kid.

“Jessa Lombardi,” she said fiercely, “you are not pathetic. You’re beautiful and smart and funny, and anyone who can’t see that can rot.”

I sniffled, trying to breathe through the ache in my chest. “You don’t get it. Jackson’s… perfect. He gets everything — the friends, the attention, the respect. And me? I’m just… there. Background noise.”

Mariah pulled back and gave me a sharp look. “You are not background noise. You’ve just been letting everyone else hold the spotlight so long that you forgot you have your own.”

Her words made something twist deep inside me — hope mixed with fear.

But I shook my head, sinking back into the pillow. “I don’t know how to believe that right now.”

Mariah exhaled, brushing my messy hair out of my face. “Then let me believe it for you until you can.”

For the first time all morning, a tiny, shaky laugh slipped out of me.

Mariah grinned, triumphant. “There’s my girl. Baby steps, okay? We’ll start with getting you out of this bed before you grow roots. Then maybe a hot shower and some mascara. And later…” She winked. “We can plot Daniel’s slow, painful demise.”

I almost smiled for real at that. Almost.

But as she tugged me to my feet, the ache in my chest remained, heavy and unrelenting.

Because deep down, no amount of pep talks could erase the truth:

Last night, I’d let myself believe for one brief, shining second that Noah saw me.

And then I found out that maybe… I was just a joke after all.