The Sun Is Also a Star

by Nicola Yoon

Fairness. Basic decency. Good things happen to good people. Bad things only happen to bad people. No one wants to believe that life is random.

It’s better to see life as it is, not as you wish it to be. Things don’t happen for a reason. They just happen.

Observable Fact: You should never take long shots. Better to study the odds and take the probable shot. However, if the long shot is your only shot, then you have to take it.

feeling that I can’t quite describe. It’s like knowing all the words to a song but still finding them beautiful and surprising.

“I don’t believe in love, remember?” I pick up my spoon and stir my coffee, even though there’s nothing to stir together. “So what are the love songs really about?” “Easy,” I say. “Lust.” “And marriage?” “Well, lust fades, and then there are children to raise and bills to pay. At some point it just becomes friendship with mutual self-interest for the benefit of society and the next generation.”

But I like my big Afro. I also liked when my hair was longer and relaxed. I’m happy to have choices. They’re mine to make.

She does it simply because it looks beautiful.

Maybe part of falling in love with someone else is also falling in love with yourself. I like who I am with her. I like that I say what’s on my mind.

I can’t decide what part of her face is my favorite.

“That was the worst singing ever,” I say. Her eyes are shining. “I told you I was bad,” she says. “You didn’t.” “In my head I did.” “Am I in your head?” I ask her.

“Stars are important,” I say, laughing. “Sure, but why not more poems about the sun? The sun is also a star,

“He was basically telling virgins to lose their virginity as soon as possible just in case they died. God forbid you should die a virgin.” Her laughter fades. “Maybe he was just saying that we should live in the moment. As if today is all we have.”

You can’t persuade someone to love you.

he tells the police officer the whole history of our coming to America.

This idiot...id hate his ass too

I rue the day I walk into that store. If it wasn’t for you and the children, my life would be betta. I would be doing the thing God put me on this earth to do. I don’t want hear nothing more ’bout your dreams. Them not nothing compared to mine.

Sometimes your world shakes so hard, it’s difficult to imagine that everyone else isn’t feeling it too.

Funny how things that once seemed so charming can become dull and annoying.

Some people exist in your life to make it better. Some people exist to make it worse.

I don’t think anyone’s ever been as happy to see anyone as Daniel is to see me.

“I didn’t think poets fought.”

Maybe he will give up smoking after all. Maybe he’ll make some new plans.

Aww

“Whose idea was that?” I ask. “My father’s,” she says, smiling. “He used to think I was the greatest thing ever.” “And he doesn’t anymore?” “No,”

He says it the way you would say it to someone who is dying or you don’t expect to see again.

I shrug. “I’ve never asked. I guess probably they would prefer me to eventually marry a black guy.” “Why?” “Same reason as yours. Somehow they’ll understand him better. And he’ll understand them better.” “But it’s not like all black people are the same,” he says.

“Could I give my card to someone who really needed it?” she asks. I know she’s thinking about her dad.

“Maybe it does bother me,” he says, “but only peripherally. It’s like a buzzing fly, you know? Annoying, but not actually life-threatening.”

The worst part of overhearing that conversation between him and my mom was that it spoiled all the good memories I had of him. Did he regret my existence when we were watching cricket matches together? What about when he was holding me tight at the airport when we were all finally reunited? What about the day I was born?

you have to at least try. Go on auditions. And be better to Mom. She’s done everything, and she’s tired, and you owe it to us. You don’t get to live in your head anymore.” My mom’s crying now. Peter walks into her arms for a hug. My father goes to them both, and my mom accepts him. As one, they turn to look at me and gesture for me to join them.

“What a difference a day makes,” he says.

She’ll know exactly when clear brown eyes became her favorite kind.

They have a sense that the length of a day is mutable, and you can never see the end from the beginning.

Am I making a mistake? Maybe. But it’s mine to make.

Irene admires his unselfconsciousness. He acts like he’s alone in the world.