June 22, 1941 – Muncie, Indiana

"Andrew," his mother called impatiently up the stairs, "if you don't hurry we're going to be late."

"I'll be right down," he yelled back, exaggerating a little. He was standing in front of the mirror, fresh out of the shower, the towel still wrapped around his waist. Having slept in again, he now had to frantically rush to try and be ready on time. But he still took the time to lean in closer to the mirror, looking carefully at his eyebrows. Happily, they were finally starting to grow in again.

"Andrew James Carter!"

"I'm coming!"

Hurriedly, he dropped the towel and started throwing on the neatly ironed clothes that his mother had laid out for him. The fabric stuck to the wet patches of skin, forcing Carter to wiggle, trying to distance the cloth from his skin. His fingers flew up the buttons of his shirt, retracing their path when he missed a button, causing the shirt to gape and pucker.

Stepping into his shoes, he tried to pull them on with one hand while using the other to pull a comb through his wet hair with the other. It didn't work quite as well as he had hoped and he had to go back, straightening his part. There was time for another quick look in the mirror as he shrugged on his jacket, and then he took of down the stairs, pausing only for long enough to grab his tie off of his doorknob as he passed.

Both his mother and his father were standing by the door, ready and waiting. Brian was making his own dash down the hall toward the door, a half-eaten slice of toast clutched firmly in his hand. His tie and jacket were nowhere to be seen.

"Brian," their mother said, "were you planning to be fully dressed at church today?"

Brian, cramming the rest of his toast into his mouth, and looked down, trying to figure out which piece of clothing he was missing. Then, mumbling something incoherent around the buttered bread, he took off up the stairs, in search of the absent jacket and tie.

John Carter nodded a silent good morning to his middle son, his thoughts wandering a million miles away. An English teacher at the reserve school, the school he had attended as a child, he was something of a daydreamer, always with his head in the clouds. But he was also one of the most popular teachers at the school. Students loved his laidback attitude and his dedication to the Native culture and legends. The legends were his passion and his hobby was recording them, so that they were not lost to history.

Carter nodded back solemnly, draping his tie around his neck and preparing to start knotting it around his neck. In many ways, he was more like his father than either of his brothers. They shared the same dreamy nature, but it was combined with a quiet sort of passion, when they remembered what it was they were passionate about.

Brian strolled down the stairs, his jacket thrown casually over his shoulder. "Hey, Andrew, didn't you tell Mary Jane that you'd walk her to church this morning?" he asked nonchalantly.

Carter's eyes widened instantly. He had completely forgotten! Mary Jane was going to be completely irate. He had promised her that he would be there this week, come rain or shine; he had already forgotten for the past two weeks.

Trying to hurry, Carter yanked on his tie to tighten the knot. His hand slipped, tightening the tie into a noose and hitting himself on the chin. "Here," his mother said, stepping over to fix the snarled mess he had made of his tie. And hopefully reopen his airway. "Let me."

With a few smooth movements of her hands, she had smoothed the tie, placing the knot within the confines of his collar. "Thanks, Mom," he said, bending down to place a kiss on her cheek.

"It's what you keep me around for, isn't it?" she asked laughingly, returning the kiss.

The complete opposite of her husband, Mary Carter was extremely down to earth and sensible. Her feet were planted firmly on the ground; she was the anchor of the family, making sure that everyone was properly fed and clothed. Without her, the family and the house would have been a complete shambles.

"Now, hurry along or Mary Jane'll be cross," she continued, pushing him toward the door.

He instantly took off running, but he had only gotten two steps before he heard his mother's voice calling out after him. "Andrew," she called, "aren't you forgetting something?" He turned to see her shaking her head at him. It was a common gesture around the Carter household.

Carter glanced down at himself quickly, performing the same check that Brian had. Everything appeared to be in place. Shirt, tie, jacket, pants, shoes: everything was where it should be. What could he possibly be forgetting?

Seeing the look of confusion on his son's face and recognizing it, having worn it himself on more than one occasion, John started laughing. "Lift your pants, son," he told Carter, a wide grin creasing his face.

Carter obeyed. As he did, he felt the breeze playing around his bare ankles. Instantly, his face turned red. Grinning embarrassedly, he took off up the stairs again. There, neatly laid out on his bed, right where he had left them, were his socks.