All Signs Point to You Part Two by Navaura Campbell (uplifting books for women .TXT) 📖

Chapter Thirty Six

Denise's vision was blurry when she awoke. Her step dad and mother were standing over her, staring down at her.

"Are you ok, Denise?" This question came from her mother, who was smoothing her hair down. For some reason, Denise found this irritating. Pulling her mom's hand from her hair, she said, "Yeah, mom, I'm alright, but could you lay off with the hand thing?"

Mrs. Richards stopped the gestures of comfort and cleared her throat.

Denise felt a sweltering pain take hold in the back of her head. It felt like she'd been hit by a semi truck or something. Looking up, she inhaled sharply and stared at Garrette. "How long was I out?"

Garrette shrugged,"an hour and a half maybe?"

Denise nodded, glanced around her room, taking in everything. Nothing looked unfamiliar to her, no changes, nothing. Sighing, she looked back at her mother. "I'm fine mom."

Mrs. Richards laughed, "That's good, you hit your head pretty hard."

"Did I?"

"Don't you remember?" Garrette inquired. Denise thought, trying to remember. She couldn't. "How did I fall?”

"Trying to ice skate." Her mother supplied the answer.

"Ice Skating? That's a stupid sport. Why would I do something like that?"

Mrs. Richards smiled down at her, "Baby, you tried it."

"Uhk." Denise cringed. She didn't even like ice skating. Couldn't imagine herself doing that. Sighing, she pushed the covers off of her and went to her closet.

"What are you doing?" Renee asked her.

"Taking a shower. I need one." She looked through the closet and frowned at most of the stuff that was in there. God, she definitely needed new clothes. Sliding hanger after hanger over, she stopped when she came to a green blouse that had a drooping v-line. She then looked in the pants section and pulled out a pair of black leggings. Going to her drawer, she pulled out some undergarments and then headed for the bathroom.

When Denise came down the stairs, she'd pinned her hair up in a comb that held the curls away from her face, pulling off an elegant look. The black leggings had been worn with a pair of small flats made to look comfortable. When she entered the living room, her mother was seated on the couch, watching television.

"I thought you were going to work later on today?" Denise inquired, looking at her.

Mrs. Richards looked up at her daughter, drawn speechless. She'd always known Denise was beautiful, but not that beautiful. Her eyes went to the sweater she wore and then got bug eyed when she took in the full breasts resting inside.

"Go take that off, or put on a shirt underneath it."

Denise stopped, "Why?”

"Denise, you're not wearing a bra. You can see everything."

"Well, everything else was hideously ugly in that closet." She complained.

Renee frowned, "But you're the one who picked those outfits out."

Denise clapped her hands together, "Good, then I can get rid of them." She smiled gleefully. Turning back toward the stairs, she made her way up the stairs to fulfill her quest.

Renee stared at her in shock. She looked like Denise, sounded like Denise, but that was not Denise.

Denise went up to her room that night after dinner and wrote in her journal.

Diary,

How come I can remember you, but the events of this morning are still amiss in my head. I don't have amnesia, at least not the long type, you know. Anyway, I have to go to school tomorrow. I hate school. It's dumb and boring and they expect you to actually want to stay during the whole day. Yeah right! Anyway, wish me luck tomorrow, k? That's all for now,

Denise~

December 8, 1998

It wasn't what she wore that caught others attention. It wasn't even the way her hair was drawn back into a tight ponytail (after all, that was as natural as they came), with small gold hoops dangling in her ear that made people stop and stare. It was the smile she gave, the flirtatious, carefree swing of her hips and friendly attitude that caused people to stop and stare. Though this was normal with most girls, it wasn't with her, because of Sherry, everyone knew who Denise Calloway was, so they knew this was out of character with her member.

It was on this day, that Jordan and Andrew were coming from the west end entrance of the student parking lot together, when they spotted her coming down the hall. Immediately the air electrified and both guys were fused with their different perspectives. Jordan eyeing her with curiosity, while Andrew brows furrowed with disgust. He shook his head in disdain for Denise and turned to Jordan. "Let's go. We don't need some..."

"Hey, what's up guys?" Just the sound of her voice made him cringe. Did she actually sound happy or had it been his imagination?

Jordan raised a brow. "Hey, Denise."

Speaking to Andrew, she inquired, "So, how is the semester going for you?"

He looked over at Jordan, who had this blank expression dominating his features. Andrew turned his gaze back to Denise, who stood there grinning, her beautiful teeth white and perfectly straight.

"Good I suppose." His stare was to be read as, Now what do you want?

She nodded, "That's good." Turning to Jordan, she gave a sensuous smile, ”“See you in class."

Jordan nodded, "Yep."

She giggled, shook her head and then turned toward the opposite end of the hallway to walk toward her class. When she was gone, Andrew glanced over at Jordan, "What was that man?"

Jordan shrugged his shoulders in response to the question. Andrew shook his head and together they continued walking toward their first period.

Denise made it to her second class, just as the bell was ringing, before the last trickle of students filed in. She took a seat in the far back, waiting for Lasaire to show up. Lasaire was within the last group to come into class. When she spotted Denise in the back of the room, she went over and sat down next to her. Lasaire and Denise immediately began chatting.

"I can't believe they let you back in school after that incident yesterday," Lasaire whispered, setting her books down.

"I know, me either, but Dr. Wheiser said that it was ok, since I had no bruises or concussions."

"Wait, you mean you fell on the ice and had not one bruise?" Lasaire stared at Denise in shock.

Denise nodded, "Yeah, I mean, the doc said I must have had guardian angels or something."

"Wow." Lasaire was awed. She couldn't believe this. "Turn around, let me see." Denise did so. Lasaire reached up and felt the back of her head. Denise winced in pain.

"Maybe you should get that checked out." Lasaire whispered.

Denise turned to her, "No, it's alright, the pain will go away in a few hours. It always does."

Lasaire's gaze narrowed, "This pain comes and goes?"

"Yeah, every now and again." Denise replied, looking down at her text book.

Lasaire's eyes widened, "What, Denise, you need to see the doctor for that."

Denise shook her head, "No, it only hurts when you touch it. If no one touches it, it's fine."

Lasaire stared, not understanding Denise's rationality of something so important. "Denise, do you realize how stupid that sounds. As long as no one touches it? You need to go to the hospital. What if you have a crack in your skull or something?"

Denise laughed, her brown eyes twinkling, "I don't think I'd be here if I that was the case, Ok? I'm fine. Nothing's wrong."

Lasaire sighed, letting things subside just as the teacher entered the room. Both girls turned their full attention to him.

Vicki hated gym, despised anything that had to do with it. She hated it even more when Mr. Morris made them run. She wasn't on track, she was a cheer leader, so why was she running a half mile? Five laps around this stupid inside track, was enough to kill her. That was it, Mr. Morris was really trying to kill her, slowly. She'd gotten no further than the third lap when she went down, gasping for air, trying her hardest to inhale oxygen not only to her brain, but to various parts of her body. She doubled over, feeling the pain go through her legs, stifling the oxygen there, creating intense pressure. She doubled over, wishing the torture would end. Finally, deciding to just sit down, she dragged herself from the track and over to the bleachers, where the other students, who had an even harder time than she did, completing the laps. As she sank down weak kneed on the bleacher in the first row, she laid her head back, gasping for breath, hoping the spinning would stop.

She was like this for about sixty seconds, when she heard a voice say, "Here, drink this, you'll feel better." Vicki tried hard to move her head to signal disagreement, but couldn't. It felt too heavy. Instead, she felt the person lean down beside her, "Did you eat this morning before coming to school, Vicki?"

Vicki grunted. To signal that she didn't.

"Breakfast is always the most important meal of the day girl. Here, eat this."

Weakly, Vicki raised her hand and felt it as something was dropped into it. Her eyes went to the bar, feeling a rumble in her stomach. A health bar? Who eats these?

"It's a really good healthy food. You'll feel much better if you eat it."

Vicki rolled her eyes, irritated. "I hate healthy food." Her voice came out slurred. She suddenly felt the bar extracted from her hands, the wrapper peeled off and then the food pushed by pieces into her mouth. Doing the only thing she could do, she chewed. After her first bite, water accompanied it. Vicki gulped down the water. Finally, after letting it start moving through her blood stream, Vicki sat up, her head no longer dizzy, the blood evened out in her limbs, and her ability to talk came back. She turned her head to the person who'd given her the food and water. Why? Her gaze inquired. The blonde just gave a small smile and then turned back to watching the others run.

After gym class, Vicki made her way over to the girl. "You didn't have to do that." She stated.

"I know. I wanted to." The girl said. Vicki nodded, "Well, thank you."

Vicki turned around and was about to leave, but the girl stopped her. Vicki glanced over at her. The girl sighed, "Can I talk to you?" She asked? Her big brown eyes pleading.

Vicki sighed, giving a small smile, "ok." She waited for the girl to come to her. Together, they began walking out of the gym, "Your sister told me that you never said anything about what I told you."

Victoria shrugged, ”“If you tell me something, rest assured that it won't get out."

"I know that." Candice stated, a small smile on her face, "it's easier to believe someone when you are in fear of them."

Victoria laughed, "Yeah, tell me about it."

Candice's eyes met hers, "Have you ever been afraid of someone?”

Victoria pulled her bag over her shoulder, "Believe it or not, but I was terrified of this girl named Iesha Bloom berg in middle school. She was worse than Sherry. She was big, ugly and mean. She would push me around all the time. Tell me what to do, always making me look like I was the bad one, especially when the center of attention was on me. She seemed to get worse then, taunting me, challenging what I say and all that stuff."

"Really?" Candice's eyes widened in shock. She'd