PAUL Reynolds doodled idly on a bar napkin as he sipped at his margarita. All around him tourists of every size and shape were donning paper pirate hats and plastic eye patches. They were part of a relatively new Key West tradition called the Booty Hunt - a glorified bar crawl where participants followed a "treasure map" that led them from bar to bar, with occasional stops in private homes, and where the chief treasure to be found was the pleasure of being surrounded by fellow drunks and saying "Arrrr" a lot. Paul had participated a few times himself and was kind of embarrassed at how much fun it was. His pen drew a rough sketch of the crowd, although in his version they were actual pirates, in full dress with real swords and pistols and parrots. He took another sip and glanced around the bar, wondering where his drinking companion had gotten to. It was still early - just an hour or so after sunset, and Crooked Pete's was only half full. Located on Simonton, a block off the tourist-choked sidewalks of Duval Street, the bar hadn't hit its stride for the evening yet. The real crowd and the regulars would come later, once they had gotten a bite to eat and were ready for some serious, cheap drinking. He saw his friend Sandee emerge - finally - from the bathroom, smiling at Paul from across the bar while maneuvering through the gaggle of barhopping buccaneers. Thick, cascading black curls complemented Sandee's black sequined mini-dress that clung to every slim curve and emphasized shapely breasts. Sandee winked at one of the tourists, blowing the man a kiss as he ogled in naked admiration. "Did you miss me?" Sandee asked, sitting down beside Paul. "Of course," Paul replied, sliding another margarita to Sandee. "But your drink missed you more. All your ice is melting." "Oh, the poor darlings," Sandee cooed, licking the salt on the rim suggestively before taking a long swallow that emptied a third of the contents. According to the above context, choose the correct option to answer the following question. Question: What did Sandy drink? Options: A. something hot B. something salty C. something spicy D. not enough information
B

That day, my mother picked me up from school, wearing the yellow sundress and shawl I remembered from our trip with Father the year before. She looked just like she did most days back then--a glamour queen, a movie star ("Just like Lena Horne," my friend Chloe had once said, "only darker--oh, sorry, Leah!"), but today her beauty somehow had a harder, more defiant edge to it. I could smell the expensive Dior perfume as soon as I opened the door, which surprised me, because my mom was usually fastidious about not getting perfume on her clothes. She was wearing her bug glasses--huge dark things with lenses that bulged out like fly eyes and reflected my face like a fun-house mirror. She had tied a yellow silk scarf around her hair and was taking deep pulls on a cigarette held between two immaculately manicured fingers. Only I knew about the nicotine stains she carefully covered with her special order "forest sable" cream each morning. Tiffany, a stupid but vicious senator's daughter who I had the misfortune of sharing a classroom with, suddenly dashed from inside the school, her face flushed. "Hello, Mrs. Wilson," she called. Before my mother could respond, she giggled and ran back to three of her friends waiting beyond the door. I could hear them laughing, but I was glad I couldn't understand their words. They were all fascinated with my mother--the black housekeeper who dressed like Katharine Hepburn and drove a Cadillac, whose daughter's "light toffee" skin indicated that she might just like her coffee with a lot of cream. Sometimes I hated those girls. "Get in the car, Leah," my mother said. Her already husky voice was pitched low, as though she'd been crying. That made me nervous. Why was she here? "Ma, Chloe was going to show me her dad's new camera. Can't I go home on the bus?" My mom pulled on the cigarette until it burned the filter, and then ground it into the car ashtray--already filled with forty or so butts. She always emptied out the ashtray each evening. According to the above context, choose the correct option to answer the following question. Question: Mrs. Wilson has probably been smoking: Options: A. For a few moments before she pulled up to get Leah B. All day C. not enough information D. Since Tiffany greeted her
B

*Question*
"It's about to come on. Hurry." "I'm coming." Nurse Judy delivered Martha's tray just in time. It was a frozen dinner, but Judy always transferred it to a fancy plate and prepared a small salad and a bowl of applesauce to go alongside it. "Looks great, Judy. Now sit down and let's eat." Nurse Judy sat down in the recliner next to Martha's bed. The meal she made for herself was similar to Martha's. "Didn't we just see this one a few days ago?" "I don't remember. But you know it doesn't matter. I love Jessica Fletcher." It was the only good thing about her failing memory. She could watch reruns of Murder She Wrote over and over again. They were all new to her. The doorbell rang. "Whoever it is, just get rid of them. It couldn't be friends or family. They know better than to interrupt my show." Nurse Judy walked down the hallway to the front door. It was a nurse. "May I help you?" "The agency sent me." "No, there must be some mistake. I've been caring for Mrs. Mason for a couple of months now." "Oh, great. Why do they keep doing this to me? Mind if I come in and use the phone?" "Don't you have a cell phone?" "Yeah, but it's dead. I forgot to charge it last night." "I hate when I do that. Sure, come on in. What's your name?" "Carnie." "Good to meet you, Carnie. I'm Judy. You can use the house phone." Judy led her to the phone. Carnie picked up the receiver and began to dial. But as Judy turned to walk away, Carnie slammed the phone across the back of her head. Nurse Judy collapsed to the floor, unconscious. Martha's blaring TV masked the noise. According to the above context, choose the correct option to answer the following question. Question: Why did Judy walk down the hall. Options: A. To see who was at the front door. B. To get lunch. C. To turn on the television. D. not enough information
**Answer**
A