Star can simply be described as a daughter of the sun. 

Her hair is gold and shimmers in the sunlight, her eyes are a honey brown, and freckles are always prominent on her cheeks. She only wears bold colors and refuses to wear black, not even to her grandmother’s funeral. 

Her love and happiness are more contagious than influenza in a kindergarten class. Not a day has gone by that hasn’t seen Star smile, which is completely perfect except for her slightly twisted front tooth, but somehow makes her smile more irresistible. 

At the young age of nine, she developed an obsession with strawberry-kiwi Capri Suns. Eight years later, she still continues to drink one per day and always has a momentous supply in the glove box of her car. 

It seems inevitable that the person who she deemed her best friend can be described as the daughter of the moon. 

Zoe has long dark hair whose highlights glimmer blue in the moonlight. Her eyes are so pale and devoid of color, they seem translucent when exposed to sunlight. Spending an hour in the sun will cause her skin to burn the brightest shades of red that she was compared to a strawberry. 

She loves to wear black every day; she thinks it allows her to blend in when in public. It’s hard to get to know her because she builds her walls tall and strong. But of course, the sun always finds ways in. 

Star is the only person who can see Zoe as the person she truly is. 

Everyone loves Star, but hardly anyone notices Zoe’s existence. 

Star has a large plethora of friends coming from different backgrounds and beliefs, but Zoe only has Star. 

The two most unlikely pair were ultimately joined at the hip. One couldn’t seem to breathe without the other. Although others see Zoe as somewhat of a shadow of Star, the two of them know how wrong those people are. 

The pair were inseparable ever since Zoe gave Star her strawberry-kiwi Capri Sun after Jacob had snatched Star’s apple juice. 

Weekends ever since have been a collage of late-night movies, nail polish, giggles, pillow fights, karaoke, prank calls, and snacks that stain fingertips. As they got older, they would sneak out of the house to go for a bike ride beneath the stars or trek to the gas station to purchase large slushies and sip them on the boughs of oak trees. 

Now that they both have their driver’s licenses, they would take long car rides through the country, rolling a die and turning left if it’s even, right if it’s odd. 

They spend the evening either chasing the sunset or the moon. 

They go on adventures to have a midnight picnic on the beach or go cliff diving in the moonlight. In the dead of night, they throw rolls of toilet paper at ex’s houses—sometimes they are a bit more extreme and have eggs involved. 

They have sleepovers on Star’s trampoline and fill the space with blankets and pillows and fire up Zoe’s laptop to watch whatever guilty pleasure T.V. show they are obsessed with at the moment. Those nights would give them so many bug bites that there isn’t a smooth square inch on their legs and arms. 

The pair of them are meant to be. 

Platonic soulmates. 

One simply created for the other. 

Neither could live if the other dies. They are each other’s oxygen. They are the blood in each other’s veins. 

They are the sun and moon of each other’s sky.