[ WP ] A kid doodling in a math class accidentally creates the world 's first functional magic circle in centuries .

I was *distinctly* sure I was using a blue pen. How did the color change? 
 
 As always, I was just absent-mindedly doodling different sized circles and patterns. I've always enjoyed symmetry and geometric shapes and spirals, so my hand just did that naturally, I suppose; my notebook was absolutely full of them. More drawings than words. Today was no different. I was n't really even paying attention to what I was drawing: Samantha was wearing that tight red shirt that shows off a bit of cleavage, and I was sitting just at the right angle across from her. The tip of the pen floated over the paper like I was using a ouija board as I tried to get just a peek of her bra. 
 
 I managed to tear my eyes away to glance down at the paper. The ink had turned black. I would n't have even noticed, but I *always* use a blue pen. Had I grabbed the wrong one? 
 
 I scribbled in the margins, drawing jagged blue lines. Definitely not the pen. 
 
 I took a closer look. The paper around my doodle was yellowed and warped like a toasted marshmallow. I poked at a particularly large bubble that had arisen, and shrank back like I'd been bitten: the paper was *really warm*. 
 
 I looked at my neighbor's paper. Nothing there; just plain white words covered in his chicken scratch notes. *Hmmm*. 
 
 I took a good look at the drawing. I'd never really done one like this. Sure it had the same undulating waves and curves that most of mine did, but there was just something odd about the way that this one all fit together, like I'd traced it out of a book. Studying it closely, I moved to touch the drawing itself. My arm hesitated, like it recognized some danger that my mind just did n't see. And it was right. 
 
 As soon as my finger touched the now-black ink outlining the pattern, I felt a jolt of lightning shoot through my finger and up my arm, tingling like I was covered in skittering spider legs. I leapt out of my desk, scattering my textbooks on the floor and sliding the notebook across the room. 
 
 `` Mr. Hamilton!'' my teacher shouted, more in surprise than anger. I ignored her, never taking my eyes off the notebook. My arm was still tingling. `` Sit down! What is the matter with you?'' 
 
 Another student, Paul, reached for my notebook. `` DO N'T TOUCH THAT!'' I yelled before even realizing what I was doing. He shrank away like a beaten puppy. The rest of the class stared at me with a mix of giggles, confusion, and derision. 
 
 `` Mr. Hamilton, sit back down in your desk right now,'' the teacher called out. 
 
 I managed to snap out of it. Probably just static electricity. 
 
 `` Sorry, Ms. Mason,'' I said. I gingerly reached for the notebook, expecting another shock. But nothing happened. I gathered up the rest of my belongings and returned to my seat while she went back to teaching whatever topic I was supposed to be learning. 
 
 Across the room, Samantha smiled at me, not mockingly like the others. I felt my cheeks turn red, and I went back to my drawing, trying to act casual. The ink was back to blue, and the paper was flat and plain white. *Maybe I just imagined it, * I rationalized. I continued doodling and tried to guess what color her bra might be. 
 
 Across the room, Samantha's red shirt was suddenly shredded to ribbons and fell to the floor like confetti. I was n't too concerned with *how* it had happened; never look a gift horse in the mouth and all that. Finally I had my answer: white with red polka dots. And I was so distracted that I barely even felt the tingling sensation return to my arm.
