Testing his new toy

As I strolled through the school parking lot, the weight of the marker in my pocket felt like a loaded die, ready to roll out an unlikely victory. My mind raced with possibilities, trying to think of something ridiculous enough to test the marker's power without landing me in too much trouble. Then it struck me—a perfect target to test the waters: the principal's reserved parking sign.

It was a risk, sure. Defacing school property could mean suspension, or worse, but the lure of the marker's potential magic was too strong. I glanced around—no one was in sight. I uncapped the marker with a decisive click and quickly scribbled my name on the sign's edge.

I stepped back, half-expecting alarms to blare or a teacher to grab my shoulder, but nothing happened. I waited for nearly twenty minutes, my heart pounding in my chest the whole time, until I saw Principal Dalton approaching his car.

Shit. He did not look like he was in a good mood...

He walked quickly, as if he was in a rush, right up until the point where was next to his parking spot. Then suddenly, he paused, looking at the sign, then at me, a confused expression crossing his face.

"Marcus," he said, almost bemused, "what's your name doing on my sign?"

I braced myself, ready to weave a tale of mistaken identity or a misplaced art project, but the words that came out were calm and confident. "Well, Mr. Dalton, I guess it's my spot now. My name's on it, after all."

He studied the sign for a moment longer, then laughed—a genuine, hearty sound that took me by surprise. "Well, I can't argue with that, can I? Clear as day, your name's right there. I suppose I'll have to find a new spot. Carry on, Marcus," he said, clapping me on the shoulder.

I almost couldn't believe it. In fact, I didn't believe it ... at first.

Initially, I thought he was just going along with my "prank." But Principal Dalton pulled out his car keys, crawled into the driver's seat of his car, and moved his Nissan Sentra exactly one spot over. Then, without even giving me a second glance, he left to go do his principal-ly duties.

It worked! The permanent marker had actually worked!

I owned the principal's parking spot, no questions asked, no consequences. I stood there, a mix of disbelief and exhilaration coursing through me. The power of the marker was real, and suddenly, my life had just become a lot more interesting.

Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I began to head around the parking lot to walk home. I would need a quieter place than the school parking lot to process my thoughts. My mind felt like a beehive, buzzing with a mix of ideation and confusion (mostly the latter), and I was eager to settle myself before deciding what to do next.

If only I had a car for my newly acquired parking spot. Karen, my hot stepmom, always let my stepsister Lily drive dad's sleek convertible instead of me. Supposedly it was because Lily was a year older than me, but I knew there was some hidden favoritism.

Walking home would have to do for today, but as I made my way through the parking lot, I couldn't help but notice the rows of cars that belonged to other students. That's when I saw it—Veronica's ride. She was one of the most popular girls at school, a cheerleader and Vice President of the student board. Her dad owned a few businesses in town and always made sure to spoil his "little girl," including with a top-of-the-line car on her 18th birthday. It was a convertible, a glossy black machine with curves that made it look like it was moving even when it was parked.

Jealousy is an ugly emotion, and I was certainly envious of her wealth. If I owned a car like that, I could probably get a girlfriend. Maybe two. Plus, I could sleep in and wouldn't need to mooch rides from Lily.

Then, after an embarrassingly long minute, it hit me. What if I wrote my name on her car?

Veronica was standing a hundred feet away, still in cheer uniform, laughing with her friend, her back to the car. My heart was racing with a mix of fear and excitement. I couldn't believe I was even considering it, but the power of the marker was intoxicating. I waited, biding my time until the parking lot traffic thinned and her friend finally walked away.

With the coast as clear as it was going to get, I slipped through the cars, my steps quiet, my breath held tight. There it was—her car, gleaming under the afternoon sun, its curves and edges like a magnet to the eyes. I ducked down, feeling a thrill of adrenaline as I reached out and scrawled my name on the lower side panel, small but legible.

Heart pounding, I retreated to a safe distance and waited, my eyes fixed on Veronica and the car. I needed to see her reaction when she discovered that, according to the universe, her prized possession now belonged to me.

Crouched by Veronica's car, I must've retied my shoelaces a dozen times, avoiding the curious glances of passing students. Finally, the distinct click of high heels approached, the sound cutting through the fading afternoon chatter. I didn't need to look up to know it was Veronica; that confident, sexy stride was unmistakable. I could all but picture her tight ass swaying in her short skirt as she walked over. But I was yanked back to reality when she spotted me.

"You creep, what are you doing stalking me? Get away from my car, weirdo!" Her voice was a mix of anger and disbelief.

Her words stung less than I expected; I was too caught up in the impending revelation. "I was just... admiring this nice car," I said, trying to sound innocent, my eyes not meeting hers.

With a huff of exasperation, Veronica snatched her keys from her purse, her eyes darting to where my name was now discreetly part of her car's sleek design. "You better not have touched it," she warned, her voice low and threatening. But as her gaze landed on my name, her expression changed from anger to confusion, then to a resigned acceptance.

"It's... your car?" she muttered, almost to herself, her earlier fury dissipating as if my name was an explanation in and of itself. "Why is your name on my car?"

Her demeanor flipped like a switch as her fury turned into panic. "Oh my god, why did daddy give me your car to drive? I had no idea it was yours all along," she gushed, the words tumbling out in that high-pitched, valley-girl cadence that bordered on absurd. "I've been driving it for the past year. Can’t believe it was a loser's this whole time."

I stood up, brushing off my pants, trying to act nonchalant despite the circus in my head. Her shock was almost comical, and it took all I had to keep a straight face and not get lost in the hypnotic bounce of her indignation.

"Yeah, well, it happens, I guess. Can I have my keys?" I managed to say, stretching out my hand.

She handed them over, her annoyance clear as she realized her predicament. "Great, now I have to order an Uber," she complained, already pulling out her phone.

As she tapped at the screen, another wild idea struck me, and I wondered just how far I could push my luck with the magic marker.