"Hey, guy." "No, this is Ray." He smiled, leaned back in his chair. It was, of course, Pete. Pete was the night shift guy at Crossroads Detox across town. Ray called it the Jesus Shop because it was wholly supported by a contingent of local churches who saw addicts as a potential ministry. Apparently Jesus saved--not only from sin and hell, but also from Dark Eyed Jim Beam. Pete was a relatively innocuous born again fundie who volunteered his time two or three nights a week. When he was not saving the world, his Clark Kent was actually a steady CPA job with the local H&R Block. He'd been pulling shifts for about six months, knew nothing about drugs beyond that bad people used them to escape their problems and that they were tools of Satan, and he always needed Ray's advice about one thing or another. This arrangement was not problematic as Pete had long ago given up trying to convert him. Pete was also the only guy in the city who was, as Ray figured it, making less money than he was at such an hour. In return for Ray's magnanimity, Pete had done Ray's taxes for free last year. They had never actually met, though Ray had faxed him the tax forms and Pete had faxed back a photo of his two pre-teen daughters and his geriatric Lab. "What's the problem?" Ray asked. "I have a recalcitrant." That's what he called them, the drunk and definitely disorderly. Pete's vocabulary did not include the word shithead either in its singular or plural. "Pete, they're all like that. Alcohol is bad medicine. That's why places like ours are in business. To make them calcitrant." "I know that." Pete sounded a little annoyed. There was some commotion in the background, a knocking on doors. According to the above context, choose the correct option to answer the following question. Question: Where does Pete volunteer 2 or 3 times a week? Options: A. The local Salvation Army B. not enough information C. The Crossroads Detox Center D. The local children's hospital
C

Before writing what I did and what he did please let me tell you I was just a teenagerand it all seemed new, so kindly don't judge me. Even if you want to..I am anonymous for the same reason. So this happened when I was 16 year old. I belong to a very humble and conservative family, from Indore. @I never had a lot of exposure to guys, until we went to attend a marriage of one of our wealthy relatives in Delhi.. it was one of the best times I had, as we had a group of 45 similar aged cousins, though most of them were very distant relatives. One of them was a 19 year old dude, and he was kind of cute. But I never thought I would have this urge to you know it was teenage and everything seemed new and exciting. So the second day, after having roamed all around Noida, we finally returned to our hotel and that guy accompanied me to my room. I asked him if he wants to come in as my parents were involved in the late night Sangeet rehearsals. He nodded gently and before I could know, we were cuddling and watching TV. I felt like a rebel, though it was the strangest and least expected thing I had done. Then he kissed me. Before I knew it I let him in my mouth and he kept rolling his tongue on mine. It was my first kiss, and I don't regret it. The warmth of his mouth, the wetness of his lips and his breath felt like the only thing I ever wanted. I was a teen so please not judge. Sadly before we could proceed, rest of our cousins called us to play Antakhshree with them. Never have we met since, but we often exchange messages on Facebook. It will be hard and awkward to attend his marriage. I love him. According to the above context, choose the correct option to answer the following question. Question: What is probably true about the author? Options: A. She does not typically do such things B. not enough information C. She has kissed many boys D. She often parties
A

Q: I was lost. As I sat parked at the old service station, I pulled out the maps and tried to do a little backtracking. It didn't take me long to figure out where I had made the wrong turn. I had tried following my memory instead of Luna's directions and wound up about eighty miles off course. My gas tank was pushing 'E' but fortunately the service station was open. When I stepped out of my Jeep, I could feel the soles of my boots melt on the asphalt. The heat coming off the cracked and pitted cement peeled off in waves that rolled out in every endless direction. The barren mountains in the distance looked unstable, like I was looking at them through a window pane slicked with olive oil. I slogged my way over to the gas pump and wrapped my shirt around the handle to keep my skin from burning against the desert-baked metal. The heat was so great I worried the fumes would ignite. A dirty round man stood in the shadowy doorway of the ramshackle service station and stared at me while he rubbed his hands inside an oily red rag. The oval name-patch stitched to his coveralls was loose at one end and curled like a leaf in the heat. His name was Jack. I topped off the tank and then walked over to him. "You work here?" I knew it was a stupid question the second it left my mouth. He and I were the only living things for fifty miles in any direction. Who the hell else would be working here? "Who the hell else would be working here?" he said. I shrugged my shoulders and pulled out my wallet. Jack wobbled inside behind a glass counter filled with everything from belt buckles to oil funnels. "That your momma's car?" he asked. It's impossible to tell what kind of psychological impact this heat would have on a man who lived out here alone, but I was sure it wasn't positive. According to the above context, choose the correct option to answer the following question. Question: Who worked at the service station? Options: A. Jack B. not enough information C. Luna D. The narrator
A: A