Miracles are a retelling in small letters of the very same story which is written across the whole world in letters too large for some of us to see. C. S. Lewis
A Rose Called Miracle: Book #2
Author's Note: A Rose Called Miracle is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of my imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidence. A couple characters begin the story as minors; however, they reach their 18th birthday before doing anything of an intimate nature. I have used some real places; however, I have manipulated details of those places to suit my needs. Finally, and to the best of my knowledge, there is no Kingdom of Douravia--but perhaps the world would be a better place if there was.
This story explores transgender and LGBTQ+ themes. You should stop reading now if these topics don't interest you. Also, while there will be a couple slightly erotic scenes, they don't begin until much later and are secondary to character development in the story.
The Emergence of Sascha
CHAPTER 1
Stephen Janovitch sat at his desk, inside room 212, inside Plumb River High School, and inside a freaking monsoon. Bummed. The weather absolutely sucked. It had been raining buckets all day and the league championship cross country meet had just been postponed. On top of that, today was only Thursday; there was still one more school day left in the week; next Friday was Halloween and he couldn't get a date. Not that it really mattered of course--he hadn't been invited to any parties anyway.
The dismissal bell rang, and he took a last, hopeful look out the window. The rain still pelted down in sideways sheets. He sighed in resignation. Stephen left the classroom and walked as slowly as possible to his locker. He loaded his planner and books into his backpack and pulled on his hoodie. He cursed himself for not accepting his mother's offer to use the car for the day.
'I'm an Idiot,'
He thought, "I wish I could conjure up an umbrella." He muttered, feeling sorry for himself, "Where's freaking Harry Potter when you need him?"
He stood by the exit door for a couple minutes hoping to catch a break and have the rain stop but didn't get lucky. So he took a deep breath, started the timer on his watch, shoved open the door, and started running. He didn't notice the two teenage boys behind him, pointing and laughing at his strange running gait. When he reached his yard, he raced up the front steps and stopped the timer. 8:22, quite a bit slower than usual, but not bad for a mile and a half, in the rain, weighed down by waterlogged clothing and a backpack.
He stepped inside the front hallway and stripped off his soaked backpack, shoes, and socks. Stephen padded down to the utility room and took off all his wet stuff and threw it in the dryer. He yelled out the utility door, "Hey, anybody here?" Nobody answered, so he removed his underwear and added them to the load. "Helloo-oh!" He yelled again, "I'm gonna run around naked and nobody can stop me!" He grabbed his backpack, shivered as the cold and wet fabric smacked against his thigh, left the utility room, and ran laughing through the 1st floor and up the stairs to his bedroom. He opened his backpack and found his books and planner still dry. He applauded himself for at least thinking about keeping a plastic trash bag handy to protect things on days like this.
He stacked the books on his desk and turned on his work light. He stared at the pile for a second but wasn't quite ready to deal with it. He peeked out his door, didn't see or hear anyone so he jogged naked over to the bathroom he shared with his twin sister Stephanie. He grinned; today it was Steph's turn to clean it.
He showered, enjoying the warmth after his run in the rain. Only when he stepped out of the shower enclosure did he realize that the only towels in the bathroom were the two huge, pink, fluffy things he'd given his twin sister Stephanie on their last birthday when they'd turned 17. He grabbed one and wrapped it around himself, hoping Stephanie wouldn't give him too much grief. He wiped steam off the mirror. He grinned as he combed his hair back, "I can finally do a decent ponytail." He checked his reflection and sighed, "Almost 18 and still smooth as a baby's butt." It just wasn't fair--a couple of guys (and one of the girls if truth be told) on the cross-country team had to shave every day.
Still shaking his head he stepped into the hall, only to be greeted by a sarcastic, "Well, well, itty bitty Stevie's all dressed in pink. Aren't you just tooo cute?"
'Oh crap, busted'. "Hey Steph, what's going on?" He tried to stay cool.
His sister lifted her phone and started snapping pictures. "These are going to look sooo nice on Facebook and X, don't you think?"
"Ah, c'mon sis, give me a break. I just needed a towel." He swept his damp blonde hair back out of his eyes. Stephanie snapped another couple pictures.
"Oh yeah these are going to look fantastic. All my friends are gonna love 'em." She gloated.
Even though he'd just showered, Stephen started to sweat.
"Of course, I might be convinced to delete them. Assuming that you do me a few favors. Nothing too painful--or dangerous--or illegal."
"Okay, yeah, whatever, just delete the damn things," Stephen snarled as he pushed past her and stormed off to his bedroom. He slammed his door and ripped off the cursed towel and heaved it into the far corner of his room. He put on clean sweatpants and a T-shirt and sat down at his desk. He stared at the pile of books and decided again they could wait. He got up and went to lie down on his bed. He crossed his legs and put his hands behind his head while he stared at his ceiling contemplating the unfairness of life--and his sister's treachery.
It was hard to believe his sister was only 18 minutes older than him--or that they were in fact brother and sister. Steph, at 5'11", was at least six inches taller and a good 35 pounds heavier than he was. Stephanie's current boyfriend was a starting tackle on the football team. She was big, the tackle was a giant: 6'6" and 320 pounds of bone, sinew, and muscle. Ever since freshman year, there had been Division I college recruiters flocking around him. Stephen had heard the whispered jokes about the monster-sized kids Steph and the tackle might produce. Stephanie heard the jokes too--and laughed her ass off, "Heck yeah," she'd said to Stephen, "The guy I marry better want a big family, because I want to have kids big enough to start my own football team."
Stephen smiled to himself as he reminisced. But then he remembered his predicament and frowned. He shook his head and wondered what tortures and indignities Stephanie would decide to inflict on him. "Oh Damn," He muttered in embarrassment, as tears started flowing. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve and grabbed a tissue to blow his nose.
"Hey Steve?" Stephanie knocked softly on his door, "Can I come in?"
"What do you want?" He shouted, at the same time furiously wiping his eyes. "Wait a minute!"
She cracked open the door and stuck in her head, "Hey guy we need to talk."
"What?" He demanded, "You've already figured out how you're going to torture me?"
Stephanie entered the room and walked over to him, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder, "Stevie, you're my brother, and I love you. Do you really think I'd do something like that to you? Come on! I was just having a little fun teasing you. Here," She handed him her phone, "You delete the pictures, so you know they're all gone."
Stephen felt a wave of relief and had to wipe his eyes.
"Hey! Are you crying?"
Steve honked into his tissue, "Allergies." He lied
"Yeah, okay." Stephanie grinned and sat down on the edge of his bed. "You'd better start deleting before I change my mind."
"That's okay. I trust you. Plus, I don't want to risk messing up your phone. Then I'd be in real trouble."
"You know it!" Stephanie chuckled and started thumbing through and deleting each shot in turn. The last picture caused her to stare; It showed Stephen, wrapped from calf to armpits in pink, his head slightly tilted, and tossing his hair out of his eyes. "Damn," She whispered.
"What?"
"Look at this last picture."
He looked at it, "What the hell? That's not me...is it?" Astounded. He couldn't believe what he was seeing.
"Damn! Stevie, you look like a girl." She hesitated and smiled, "And a really cute one. A couple girls in my government class would just adore you."
"Hey!"
"Just saying."
"Jesus Christ," Steve exclaimed as he flopped back on the bed, "This is just great." He looked at the picture again, couldn't believe what he saw--a girl tossing her reddish-blonde hair to try and attract attention...flirting. He stared. "I can't believe I look like that. Did you notice it when you took the picture?"
