STING [peter parker & betty cooper]

Chapter One: Uncertain Future

Betty's POV

"Elizabeth, what is the definition of cultural functionalism?" Mr. Segal, my Sociology teacher, asked, and I stopped underlining relevant phrases of the textbook to look at him.

I smiled politely and shifted to the edge of the chair. "It's the theoretical perspective that explains cultural elements by showing how they contribute to societal stability." The memorized words were delivered in one breath.

"Precisely. Good job! Now Trevor, how does that affect..."

I continued to summarize my underlining, mostly identifying passages I didn't know yet. The motion of my pen caused my hand to swing back and forth mechanically as I wrote, my eyes focused and never leaving the page. This class was beyond dull and usually, I just spent the time counting the minutes left or daydreaming, but class presentations were scheduled to start in a few weeks and I wanted to be ahead of the schedule. Future Betty will certainly thank me for this.

The loud bell suddenly echoed in the hallway, making me jump lightly in place and forcing me to take in my surroundings. The annoying sound of chairs being moved filled the classroom as my fellow students violently began to get to their feet.

It was Friday and everyone was dying to get an early start on the weekend even though school started exactly a week ago. Personally, I blamed it on the weather: it was still too hot, and the students appeared to be having a hard time concentrating on school matters when you could just be outside swimming across Sweetwater river or basking in the sun. I, for one, didn't mind spending a sunny day in. Years of practice, I guess.

"Calm down folks, the door is not going anywhere!" Mr. Segal shouted as the children ran over each other in the direction of the exit. Images of a herd of gazelles in the savanna running from a predator ran through my mind at the sight and a little chuckle left my lips. I followed the crowd and was about to walk into the hall when I heard my name.

"Elizabeth, I would like to speak with you for a minute before you leave." Mr. Segal announced cordially, his tone neutral.

I glanced at him quickly and wondered if I did something wrong, but I couldn't think of anything. I'm practically what you could consider a model student. Hesitantly, I turned around and walked up to his desk. I adjusted the strap of my backpack as he was going through his papers calmly. "Yes, Mr. Segal?"

Mr. Segal looked up and smiled, clearly pleased about something. "One second, I'm looking for your assignment. Ah, here it is." He handed me the papers and I examined the front page.

"Ninety-five percent?! Thank you!" I curiously began flipping through the pages. Mom and Dad will be happy and while I'm satisfied I never had much interest in Sociology. Good grades do not equal passion, and this subject was studied mechanically at this point.

"Don't thank me, you did all the work. Besides, you had three weeks to work on it, you didn't have to finish so early. You were done in three days, it's impressive." He said kindly. He continued to stare at me, and I started to get a little puzzled.

"Umm don't get me wrong, Mr. Segal, I'm obviously grateful for this mark, but why are you giving it to me now?" I did not understand why he called me aside. I had gotten good grades before.

Mr. Segal placed a hand on his chin. "Elizabeth, you've probably noticed this by now, but I'm always counting on you as my best student in the class. Your assignments are highly organized, structured with a dedication that is quite rare to find these days. I dare to say you have a gift for Sociology."

I nodded my head yet I was not agreeing with what was being said. I was only 'great' at Sociology because I studied and dissected the subject weekly. I wasn't particularly fascinated by it and I certainly didn't feel like I possessed a gift. The way I see it, I merely did what I was supposed to do.