The Magic That Didn’t Fail

Would you like to know how I accidentally created a star?

Me. A sixteen-year-old girl best known for being invisible.

I was the clumsy one — the girl who tripped during PE, got hit in the face by every ball, and was always left behind by the bus.

I once wore mismatched shoes all day. No one noticed.

I forgot things constantly — like my groceries at the counter… or that time I got into a stranger’s car.

People called me Clown Lisa.

The only one who ever believed in me was my dad.

But he 's gone now.

One afternoon my luck changed, on my way home from school, I accidentally missed my stop on the subway. Not surprising, honestly. But this time, I ended up going in a completely different direction.

And that’s when I saw him.

A guy dressed in a magician’s outfit, standing by one of the pillars with a hat on the ground, hoping for a few coins. I stopped. He looked like he was really trying — he was working hard on some trick, but all I could see was clumbsiness.

He even had a rabbit in a little cage, and I couldn’t figure out what he was planning to do with it.

People passed by quickly, giving him a glance — maybe a confused smile — and then kept walking. No one stopped.

He was probably just a little older than me. Maybe eighteen, and for some reason he looked familiar to me.

The next day, I decided to go back to the same spot.

I promise — this time, it wasn’t an accident.

He was there again, still trying to get some coins. I realized that he was a twelfth grader at my school.

I walked up to him and dropped five dollars in his hat. It was all I had.

He smiled at me and said, “Thanks.”

“Do you know what you’re doing?” I asked.

He stared at me, saying nothing. It was… awkward.

“You might need some practice still,” I added.

He didn’t respond, so I turned around to leave. But then he said:

“I have no clue. I don’t know how to do magic. This isn’t working.”

His voice cracked. I turned around. His face looked tired — defeated.

I didn’t say anything.

“My dad used to know how to do all these tricks,” he said quietly.

“I read the whole Magic for Dummies book and I still don’t get it.”

He sighed.

“My dad used to perform at birthday parties, special events... he even volunteered at children’s hospitals. He loved making people laugh, well he was an actual clown.”

“Used to?” I asked gently.

“He passed away. Life sucks. This whole thing sucks.

You know what the worst part is?”

He looked at me for the first time — really looked.

“I used to be ashamed of him.

The guy with no degree.

The guy who didn’t ‘go further.’”

“Now that he’s gone… you really realize how special he was to you, right?” I asked.

He only nodded.

“I used to think we needed everything — money, a nice house, a pool, a big porch. That was all I could think about for years. But now I realize… my dad didn’t care about any of that.

He just wanted to be happy with what he had. And honestly?

I don’t agree with him. Not completely.

Maybe that’s why I work so hard at school — because deep down, I still want the life he never got.”

“But now you’d give anything just to bring your dad back,” I said softly.

“I get it. I lost mine too. Five years ago.”

“I lost him four months ago,” he said, barely above a whisper.

There was a crack in his voice — the kind that reveals more than it hides.

I didn’t care that I barely knew him. I just hugged him.

Because sometimes, it doesn’t matter how long you’ve known someone.

At first, he didn’t move.

Then I felt it — his arms wrapped around me carefully.

I didn’t say anything. Neither did he.

But something changed in the quiet.

When he finally pulled away, I smiled. “So… I have to ask — what’s the rabbit for?”

“Oh. Right. The book didn’t mention a rabbit, so I had no clue what to do with him.”

He turned to the cage beside us.

“His name’s Teo. He was my dad’s.”

I knelt down to greet Teo, offering him my hand through the bars.

“Ouch!” I cried.

“What? What happened?”

“He bit me!”

Mark’s eyes widened. “Seriously? He’s never bitten anyone before.”

I looked at him. He looked at me.

And for the first time that day, we both laughed — not out of politeness, but because something about the whole thing was ridiculous and perfect.

He did recognize me, at least he had noticed me at school before.

There, on a random metro platform, surrounded by noise and strangers…

I felt it.

Something was beginning.

Little by little, we opened up to each other.

We could talk about everything. And nothing.

He had a gift — he could make me laugh no matter what.

Even if I tried not to, he’d find a way.

But he was quiet. Shy. An extrovert with everyone except me.

Not that I blamed him — I was the same way.

I even tried performing magic tricks myself.

It didn’t go well.

Magic coins wouldn’t appear behind his ears… unless someone pointed it out first.

We’d shuffle cards like pros, only to pick the wrong one. Every single time.

And the rabbit?

Teo would poop in my hands every time I tried to hold him, or he would bite me.

It was a total disaster.

A beautiful, ridiculous, unforgettable disaster.

One afternoon, we went to a café — quiet, cozy, and warm — the kind of place that felt like a hug.

I ordered an iced coffee.

He got a milkshake.

We shared a slice of chocolate cake, just like always.

But that day, I wasn’t okay.

I had just failed my final math exam. And I felt… dumb. Like I didn’t belong in a world where people had plans, majors, and careers lined up.

Mark, of course, had already decided. He was going to study law — not because he loved it, but because it made sense.

And me? I couldn’t even pass algebra.

“Hey,” he said, noticing. “You okay? You’re a little quiet today.”

“I failed math.”

“Like... failed-failed?”

I nodded.

He shrugged. “So? Eleventh-grade math? You think you’ll use that in real life?”

“I still need to pass,” I muttered. “I need my diploma.”

Mark leaned in, lowering his voice like he was telling me a forbidden truth.

“Useless,” he whispered.

I laughed under my breath.

Then he sat up straight, cleared his throat, and began impersonating my math teacher — he could even mimic his voice perfectly.

“No, no, no, Lisa. You must solve it my way. I don’t care if the answer is correct — if you don’t use the sacred formula I invented during a spiritual retreat in 1987, it does not count.”

He shook his head dramatically and added a pretend mustache swipe.

I choked on my coffee.

Then he continued, now pacing like a Shakespearean villain: “When I was your age, I solved equations with a stick. In the dirt. While walking uphill. Both ways.”

I burst out laughing, covering my mouth with a napkin. The lady at the next table gave us a look. I didn’t care.

Mark sat back down and smiled. “I’ll help you, okay? We’ll get through this.”

And for the first time that day, I believed it.

Days passed by and he kept going to the metro station, wearing his dad’s magician costume — sleeves too long, hat slightly crooked.

No one stopped to watch.

The tricks failed.

The rabbit bit.

Magic wasn’t really his thing, but somehow, he always made me laugh.

We were walking home after spending an afternoon at the park one evening.

I was still laughing about how Teo escaped in the park and almost stole someone’s fries.

Mark looked at me and said,

“You know… I never liked magic that much.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean… I only did it because it was my dad’s thing. But you know what I do like?”

I looked at him — and I already knew.

“Turns out I do like making people laugh. Maybe not with tricks like my dad did, but with my words. My voice. My own kind of magic. I just need to get more confident… because I’ll need a bigger audience than just my lovely girlfriend.”

I smiled. “You’re already good at that.”

Later that night, we were sitting on my porch.

I pulled out my phone and hit record — without telling him.

“Can you do something for me?” I asked.

“Sure,” he said, still chewing on a piece of leftover cake.

“Pretend you’re my mom. Just act like her,” I said, trying not to laugh.

He gave me a look. “Seriously?”

“Please,” I begged. “Just once.”

He sighed, sat up straight, and in the most exaggerated voice said,

“Lisa, if you don’t pass math, you’ll never get a good job. And stop slouching! You want to look like a shrimp for the rest of your life?”

I nearly dropped the phone from laughing. “Act like someone else! New challenge: pretend you’re Mr. Velasquez. My math teacher.”

Mark’s eyes lit up. He cleared his throat, adjusted an invisible tie, and instantly transformed.

He stood up from the bench, lifted one eyebrow dramatically, and began pacing back and forth like he was on a stage.

“Good morning, class,” he said, mimicking the teacher’s painfully slow tone.

“Today we will be solving quadratic equations… my way.”

He stopped, pointed an invisible marker at me, and boomed,

“Lisa! What did we say about solving problems using your brain? We do not use our brains here. We use the box I gave you in September. Page three. If you dare to think independently, you are wrong.”

I was already gasping. But he wasn’t done.

“When I was your age, I solved equations with a stick in the dirt. Now you people can’t even find X with a calculator and Wi-Fi.”

Mark paused dramatically and added one final line, shaking his head with fake disappointment:

“Lisa, if you don’t find the value of X in the next two minutes, you might as well say goodbye to happiness, a future, and possibly… Wi-Fi.”

I was laughing so much, Mark started laughing too.

I ran to stop the recording before he could notice.

“I love you,” I whispered.

Mark wasn’t serious — not at first.

“I am your math teacher! Would you love detention too?” he said in the same ridiculous voice.

But then, moments later, he kissed me.

Harder than ever before.

And of course, right then… my mom opened the front door.

“Good evening, Misses Parker,” Mark said, pulling away fast.

“Hello, Mark,” she replied, using a serious tone. “It’s late. I think it’s time to go home.”

I smiled at him.

He smiled back.

Then he left.

That night, I edited the video — just a few simple touches.

I posted it on my TikTok account.

Then I turned off my phone and fell asleep right after praying.

The next morning, I woke up around noon. I was exhausted, but Mark had promised to help me study for chemistry.

I didn’t even check my phone. I just rushed to take a shower, got dressed, and poured myself a bowl of cereal — almond milk in mind, since I’m lactose intolerant.

Except… I was so distracted that I used regular milk instead.

Mark arrived a few moments later, with a stack of books and a bunch of exercise sheets. We sat at the dining table.

And the first thing he did?

He made me laugh.

He raised his pencil like a microphone and said,

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the tutoring session. Okay, so I studied all night for this… and I can now confidently say… I still have no idea what a covalent bond is. But I did bond with my blanket at 3 a.m., if that counts.”

Again, he made me laugh so hard… I felt it.

The milk.

The regret.

My stomach twisted and turned like it was auditioning for a drama series.

And then —

I farted.

Loud.

Like, a loud thunder sound.

Mark froze.

I froze harder.

We stared at each other in dead silence for a solid three seconds before he whispered,

“Was that… part of the experiment?”

I buried my face in my arms. “I told you I was lactose intolerant!”

He wiped a tear from laughing and leaned close.

“You know, some girls try to impress guys with makeup or perfume… but you? You just gave me the most honest moment of my life.”

I rushed to the toilet. That’s when I realized — my phone had been sitting there the whole time, untouched.

Finally, I grabbed it and turned it on.

Thousands of notifications.

I blinked. Checked again.

I couldn’t believe it.

My TikTok video had gone viral.

Viral.

“Mark! Mark!” I screamed from the toilet seat.

He came running, and from the other side of the door, he asked, breathless:

“Are you okay? Did the milk win?”

I put on my pants, washed my hands in record time, and threw the door open — not even caring about the smell cloud behind me.

“You’re viral! They all loved you!” I screamed.

“What?” Mark asked, totally confused.

“Yes! I posted your video — the one I recorded yesterday — and now it’s viral! Over five million views in less than 24 hours.”

Mark grabbed the phone from my hand. He stared at the screen, his mouth hanging open.

“So… I’m viral?” he said. “Like, for real, viral?”

Then he looked at me, eyes wide.

“Wait… would they pay me!?”

“I don’t know,” I laughed. “I’ve never been viral before either.”

He immediately forgot about chemistry, and we both sank into the couch, scrolling through hundreds of comments — people laughing, sharing, loving Mark’s performance.

“I’m sure your dad would be proud of you, Mark,” I said softly.

He didn’t speak right away. Then he looked at the screen and said,

“Ever since he passed, I’ve changed. And ever since I met you… I changed even more.”

He smiled a little.

“I’m a whole new Mark now. I just wish he could’ve seen this version of me.”

I leaned in and kissed him.

Then I grabbed his hand and said,

“Alright, starboy… let’s get back to chemistry before you become too famous to help me.”

We kept uploading videos — first on TikTok, then Instagram, and eventually we started a YouTube channel.

It was all about comedy sketches, awkward moments, and oddly specific impressions only Mark could pull off.

People loved our content — well, they loved Mark.

I was just the girl behind the camera, still feeling invisible.

While I struggled through twelfth grade — physics, calculus, and the pressure of figuring out my future — Mark seemed to have it all figured out.

He took a gap year, realized law was never really for him, and started working as a comedian.

And me?

I still had no idea who I wanted to be.

But I knew one thing for sure:

I wanted to be next to Mark —

In the bad moments.

In the good moments.

In every ridiculous, scary, and magical moment in between.

Just before the school year ended — before I officially survived high school — something unexpected happened.

We were sitting on the couch.

Mark was explaining velocity and gravity to me in the most ridiculous way possible.

Then his phone rang.

He answered. At first, his face was blank — listening. Processing.

Then, he froze.

“They’re… they’re recruiting me,” he whispered.

“For a comedy show. A real TV show. They want me.”

He turned to look at me.

And then he broke down — laughing and crying at the same time, like he didn’t know which emotion to pick first.

I just sat there, taking it all in.

I was there, in his moment.

“I guess I became what my dad spent years dreaming of. He always wanted to be a big magician, but he never got there.”

“But now it’s possible for you,” I said.

“You’re an amazing comedian — and I know your acting will be just as brilliant.”

Then I smiled.

“Maybe you’re not following his footsteps… maybe you’re finishing his story.”

“Thank you Lisa,” He said before kissing me.

I had created a star.

Like I said before — I directed his videos, sometimes I even appeared in them.

But I still felt invisible to the rest of the world.

In moments like this I wish my dad would be there, he would tell me advice, something full of wisthdom. It was my decision about what I would do after school, only I could decide.

Little by little, I realized I was part of it too — the one filming, editing, and running everything behind the scenes.

A few weeks after graduation, I enrolled in a film and media program.

Not to be famous, but because I liked it.

And maybe… I was actually good at it.

Mark was already filming his show. He called every night with updates, impressions, and new ideas.

I wasn’t in front of the camera.

But now… I wasn’t invisible either.

I found my place behind the scenes —

With a lens in one hand, and a future I was finally excited to edit.

I accidentally created a star.

And maybe, just maybe, I started becoming one too.