Martin B. Gubat pulled a dove from the principal's chalk box and Lagonoy High hadn't been the same since.
Not all magic in school came from the courts. Some of it came from the Diamond Section, where Martin—known for conjuring miracles from his sleeves—was the unofficial magician of the first years. Not for academics, not for sports, but for spectacle and charm.
At lunch breaks or after flag ceremony, he'd pull roses from thin air, guess birthdays, or make someone's ID vanish only to reappear inside a sealed envelope in a different classroom. Even the famously unamused Principal Edmund R. Mabini cracked a rare, terrifying smile after Martin turned a box of chalk into a flutter of white doves during Foundation Day.
Diamond adored him. Even Isaac, the quiet poetry boy, opened up. Though Martin never teased him about his secret crush on Ella Manalo—despite everyone noticing how Isaac slipped poems into her notebooks—he did offer once to make a poem "float" in midair to impress her. Isaac blushed and refused.
Kaira Ramos, the gossip queen, was Martin's favorite audience. She clapped the loudest, laughed the hardest, and often fed him ideas.
Then came Intramurals week. The story really began there.
Martin was sprinting across the hallway, trying to catch Levi's mixed doubles match. Not because he liked badminton (he didn't) but because Levi was paired with Rina, a tennis varsity player from Emerald Section—and Martin lived to tease him about his obvious, clumsy crush.
He turned a corner too fast.
Thud.
Books exploded onto the floor like bricks. Martin stumbled.
"Ay, sorry!" he exclaimed, blinking at the girl now kneeling to gather her books—fat paperbacks with dragons, space stations, and daggers on the covers. Titles like Chrono Rift, Red Spiral, and Midnight Protocol stared back.
He bent to help. Their hands touched. Just a second.
The girl yanked her hand back like he'd zapped her. "T-Thank you," she said, hugging the books close.
Martin recognized her: Mae Ann F. Rivero from Emerald. Friend of Rina, Callie, Calista, and Arvin. Always reading. Always somewhere in another world.
He also knew—from Kaira, of course—that Mae had a… reputation.
Whenever she got too immersed in a book, she screamed.
Like:
"AHHH! HE'S BEHIND YOU! RUN, IDA!"
Or:
"NO! NOT THE SPACESHIP! ANYTHING BUT THE SPACESHIP!"
It startled classmates, made teachers flinch, and once caused a janitor to spill a bucket of water. But it was also… adorable.
Martin smiled.
"You okay?"
Mae nodded, already scurrying away like a startled cat.
That moment sealed it.
Martin B. Gubat: smitten. Or something close enough.
The next day, he appeared near the library, made a phoenix flutter out from behind Mae's book. She yelped and smacked it shut.
"You again?"
"Me again," he grinned.
Day by day, he escalated. Doves into roses. Coins into glitter. One day, a bouquet bloomed from Mae's backpack. School buzzed.
"Martin likes Mae, confirmed!"
"Next trick: fireworks?"
Kaira relayed every update like a sportscaster.
Mae tried to stay neutral. She buried herself in Midnight Protocol, only to shriek:
"NO! NOT THE CLIFF! WHY ARE YOU JUMPING?!"
Everyone flinched. Martin laughed.
"What chapter was that?"
"None of your business," Mae replied, but she was smiling.
Later that week, she was reading quietly near the volleyball court. Martin approached with a metal ring, tapped it—poof, a butterfly appeared and landed on her page.
"You're insane," Mae muttered.
"You're beautiful," he said, like it was a fact.
She blinked. He winked.
That night, Martin planned his biggest act.
Isaac contributed a poem. Kaira helped stall Mae. Principal Mabini grudgingly signed a permit (no explosions, Martin swore).
From the rooftop of Diamond, tiny drones lifted into the sky.
Sparkles. Swirls. Purple and gold.
Then came the floating words:
"For Mae Ann F. Rivero: You're the magic in my story."
Mae stood frozen. Martin appeared beside her.
"So?"
She turned. "So… do I scream now or later?"
Martin laughed.
She did scream. Eventually.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE DIES?!"
It came from her book. Not from Martin.
But under glittering stars and scattered novels, Mae leaned into him.
And Martin—the magician of Diamond, the boy with too many tricks and too big a heart—didn't need illusions to know: he'd won her over.
Some stories don't need spells. Just timing, truth, and a little chaos.
They were quickly added to Kaira's gossip list.
"Martin and Mae are a thing now," she told Ella during lunch, grinning.
"Who's next? You and Isaac?"
Ella rolled her eyes.
Across the room, Isaac slipped another poem into a folded paper.
And the magic? It stayed. In doves and books. In glances and screams. In Lagonoy High, where every corner held a story waiting to begin.