“Joey, what in the world are you—” Following the direction of Joey’s stare, Lance’s words died on his lips.

“It can’t be.” Joey’s voice was barely a whisper.

And yet it was.

He would know that person anywhere.

He would have sworn his heart skipped a beat, maybe three. Had his eyes been any bigger, they would have stretched past the moon.

“Well, what do you know?” Lance remarked at length. “One big coinky-dink after another.” He paused, then added thoughtfully, “Or maybe not.”

“I don’t believe it,” Joey murmured, unable to shift his eyes to either side. “I’ve wondered about her so much—and all this time, we’ve been practically neighbors!”

“Since she’s right there, would you like to go say hi?”

Even if Joey had said no, his legs were already carrying him across the street. Lance had to jog a little to keep up.

On her front porch, Sheri relaxed in an old-fashioned swing with a plaid blanket over her lap and a little white book in her hands. As usual, she sported her unique butterfly pendant, and her headwear this time consisted of a handmade baby-blue cap with white trimming. She didn’t even realize Joey and Lance were coming until Joey called to her. She gave quite a start, and her astonishment only skyrocketed when she looked up.

For a moment, the girl appeared to have been struck dumb.

Then, as Joey bounded up the steps, her shock dissolved faster than water on a hot skillet, and she readily opened her arms when he bent down. Scrawny as she was, her arms clung to his neck with surprising strength. He squeezed her just as hard, if not harder; you would have thought they were old friends meeting after a decade.

“Joey!”

“Oh, Sheri! It’s so good to see you!”

“How did you—where did you—”

“I just can’t believe I found you, here of all places—”

“I never thought—”

“This is too awesome—”

This bewildered and ecstatic prattle lasted at least five minutes; even after Joey and Sheri got some hold of themselves, they held each other for a good while longer before loosening their grips. Sheri laughed and cried by turns, and Joey grinned so broadly he thought his face would break.

When Sheri found her voice again, the first rational words she could get out were, “What are you doing here, Joey?”

“The guys and I inhabit a condo not far from here,” he answered. “Lance and I were out walking, just minding our own business, and—well, how were we supposed to know this part of the neighborhood was yours?”

Shaking her head in mingled disbelief and wonder, the girl muttered, “This has got to be either divine intervention, or sheer dumb luck.”

“Either one works for me!”

“Hello, Sheri,” said Lance, his face and tone much warmer than from his previous encounter with her.

“Hi, Lance!”

He stooped to hug her as well, though unlike Joey, he didn’t crush her half to death. She, in turn, grabbed his neck with the same fervor that she showed Joey. The sight warmed Joey’s heart, and he only wished JC, Justin, and Chris got over their qualms as quickly as that.

Lance was just straightening his posture when the screen door opened and an older woman stepped quickly onto the patio. “Sheri?” she called in an anxious tone. “Is everything okay, sweetheart?”

“It’s fine, Mom,” Sheri said.

The mother eyed Joey and Lance warily. “Can I help you boys?” she asked after an awkward minute.

“Excuse us, ma’am,” said Lance with his soft Southern charm. “We don’t mean to intrude.”

“We just came to pay Sheri a little visit,” said Joey. “She’s a friend of ours. Kind of.”

Sheri explained, “This is Lance and Joey, Mom, from ‘N Sync.”

The woman’s eyes widened. “The ‘N Sync?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Lance said with a smile.

“Joey was at the hospital the last time I was there,” Sheri said, and Joey felt oddly grateful when she didn’t mention his cancer.

“Oh. I…I see.”

Surveying the woman, Joey noted she wasn’t much taller than Sheri, certainly no taller than Chris, and she looked like she could use a little more weight, too. Her face looked tired but pretty, with only a few lines at the corners of her mouth and intelligent brown eyes, and two or three grayish threads in her brown, chin-length hair. Her clothes were casual, but with noticeable touches of flair.

Remembering his manners, Joey held out his hand to her. She hesitated at first; then, as if realizing the sincerity of the gesture, took that hand and shook it amiably. “Nice to meet you, Joey,” she said.

Lance offered his hand as well and she did likewise to him.

At length, Sheri asked, “Would it be all right if we invited them inside the house for a bit, Mom? I kind of need to go in myself anyway.”

“Do you feel all right, honey?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. As well as can be expected, anyway.” With a sniff, she added, “And I can tell you’ve made cookies. Carrot cake cookies, I presume?”

Her mother nodded. “Just out of the oven.”

“Carrot cake cookies?” said Joey incredulously. “Whatever happened to the good old-fashioned chocolate chip or peanut butter?”

Sheri laughed. “Trust me, they taste much better than they sound.”

“I’ll have to taste it to believe it,” Joey said, adding hastily to her mother, “if that’s all right.”

Sheri’s mother glanced around, as if expecting to see someone other than Lance and Joey lurking about the area. When she was convinced it was just them, she said at last, “I don’t see why not. Come on in and make yourselves at home, boys.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Cooper,” said Lance.

Now a genuine smile brightened the woman’s face, and she said graciously, “You may call me Ann.”

Joey liked Sheri’s house the moment he set foot in it. While nothing fancy, the place felt very cozy and homelike. Ann, as it turned out, even with meager earnings, had good taste and a keen eye for detail. In the small but immaculate dining room, Ann presented her guests with a platter of the carrot cake cookies, which Joey found very tasty after all—especially since they contained bits of chocolate, and two cookies at a time were pasted together with gooey white frosting. Ann also gave them some glass cups and a carton of fresh milk and told them to help themselves.

It was an odd experience, eating cookies and drinking milk like little kids just come home from school, but Joey couldn’t get over how good it felt, too.

“Mmm…I gotta get my paws on the recipe for these,” Lance commented between bites.

“What do you think of my mother’s cookies now, Joey?” Sheri asked.

“Turns out you’re right, Sheri. I eat my words with them.”

“Better watch it, though,” Lance said. “Don’t want to spoil our dinner later.”

Joey smirked. “Gee, it’s like we’ve all reverted to kindergarten.”

“Those were the days,” said Sheri with honest nostalgia.

Though the girl smiled and made light talk, Joey couldn’t help noticing something sad in her eyes. For that matter, he had the strangest hunch that some type of gloom lay beneath the pleasure in this room.

He didn’t know why, but there was no denying the impression.

It wasn’t until later, when the last cookie had been consumed, the last bit of milk had been drained, and Lance had disappeared into the kitchen with Ann, that Joey mustered the nerve to ask, “Something wrong, Sheri?”

“Hmm?”

“You look like you’ve got something heavy on your mind. What is it?”

He expected her to insist it was nothing, but instead she answered with a question of her own. “Do you really want to know?”

He hesitated, then said slowly, “If you care to tell me. Now that I think of it, you were just like this the last time we spoke in the hospital. I would have asked you then, but didn’t want you to think I was getting too personal with you. I know we don’t know each other very well, but I’ll be glad to hear you out and help in any way possible.”

“You’re going to wish you hadn’t eaten so many cookies,” Sheri said, her face and tone serious enough to let Joey know she wasn’t joking this time. She added in an almost inaudible whisper, “And I doubt there’s anything you could do to help.”

Now Joey felt genuine worry twist his insides. Much as he dreaded the answer, he persisted, “Well, what’s up?”

Sheri stared at him for a long time without speaking. Her face gave off so many tangible emotions; he almost wanted to cry on the spot. When she spoke at last, she said, “Look, Joey, I’m going to be straight with you, okay? There’s no point in lying, sugarcoating, or keeping this a secret anyway.”

Joey waited, his heart thudding painfully against his ribcage, his throat dry in spite of how much milk he’d drunk.

Sheri closed her eyes, drew in a long breath, and made known her terrible secret.

“Joey…I’m dying.”