Only a premonition of muggy months ahead kept Mary-Carter Wheeler from complaining about the cold morning as she waited for her ride to school. Mr. Winston, the milkman, would be along any minute with the other students living on this side of the creek. A light frost glistened on the fields, but daffodils were already showing green shoots in her front yard. She wondered if Mattie would have news of her brother Pete. Like several of the other high school girls, Mary had admired Pete from afar even before he became an actor on the Floating Theater. She blew on her cold fingers, transferring Stanislavski’s autobiography to her other hand. She hoped the librarian would allow her to renew it a third time.