“Chance likes to ride in back, standing up at red lights and pounding on the roof in (what he insists is) Morse code. We won't mention that to Dad.”

“To be fair, she called this morning. I stared at the phone. Circled it on my bed. And, eventually, it stopped ringing. If it had been important, she would’ve called back, right? That was the line of thought that ran through my head until halfway through the day, when I started to feel bad about it.”

“Rescue operation," he says, breathless. "Saved Barbie from drowning.”

“Chance likes to ride in back, standing up at red lights and pounding on the roof in (what he insists is) Morse code. We won't mention that to Dad.”

“It's true,' he begins, 'that the universe is this big, vast thing, and humans will probably never explore even a tiny fraction of it. But that doesn't mean we're alone or we're displaced from it. All these elements, everything around us, the building blocks of the Earth and life -- even the very air you're breathing -- originated from those stars. We're a part of them. Orion, Draco, Sirius . . . they're a part of us, too.'Just like that, I can't keep my eyes off Chance. Even Rachael is momentarily entranced, looking bewildered and amazed all at once.I can't help thinking about it, how we could've all come from different stars, light-years away. Wondering, maybe, if Chance and I came from the same star. If that's what they mean when two people feel they've known each other in a past life.No, not in a past life -- but that the building blocks of one person's existence could have originated right alongside that of another's.I wonder if that's why I can't seem to shake him. Why so much of my life has been focused on someone like him.'So we're all made of stars,' I murmur. So much for not opening my mouth.Chance twists around, a sad smile on his face as his eyes meet mine. 'We're all made of stars,' he agrees. 'We burn bright, then we flicker away.”