*Question*
Yes, it's actually happened to me before. Let me explain before I get called irresponsible, or incapable of having a dog, or incompetent, My dog is my baby, since the day I got her we've been inseparable. I learned from this mistake and have taken every precaution to prevent it from happening again. She was uninjured luckily, but I was freaking traumatized. I have a SUUUUPPPPEEEERRR long driveway, so I usually drive my truck to the end to check my mail, and on this particular day, I was out in my yard playing with Roxie, I saw the mailman drive by through my fence, and so we walked back to the house, I grabbed my keys, and off we went. This wasn't too long ago, maybe May, so it's hot, typical North Carolina weather, maybe 92 and some change, so my windows are down, because I drive a 13 year old black truck, so it's hot as hell, and it makes it hard to breathe. The AC works, it just takes time to kick in, and number 5 (my highest AC setting) does not work. As I'm driving down, I'm going maybe 5 miles an hour. I'm petting Roxie with my right hand when I feel her jerk out of my reach and I hear a bush rustle, I look to the passenger side, slam on brakes (because the last thing I want is to hurt my baby) and put the truck in park. Sure enough, my mom and her Chihuahua were out in the front yard, and Roxie, being her playful self jumped out and ran. She scared the absolute shit out of me, so now when I drive with her in the car, the window stays shut or cracked. Lesson learned. Question: What is probably true about the author? Options: - They have never owned a pet. - They like animals. - They hate animals. - not enough information === The correct answer is
**Answer**
They like animals.

*Question*
Aage Llievang tried explaining to his mother, but she shook her head. "Now, Aage. Really. Your own car? A car? What would the other co-op members think?" "Mom, this is a classic! 1952 MG-TD. It's even--" "British Racing green... yes, Aage. I know. Your father knows. Your grandmother knows. We all know about the car." "But Mom, look." He waved his Handy at her. The MG glowed on its small screen. "There's one up for auction on carsforsale.com and I'm too young to bid. You've got to help me." "Aage!" She put her hands on her hips and shook her head. "Your age is not the problem. You can't even afford it." "I'd pay you back." How could he explain his fascination with the Vehicular Age to her? The seductive sheen, the rumble, the combustive power of automobiles called to him like a siren at sea. He coveted the sense of possibility inherent in the turn of a key. And the MG-TD held a place high in his list of hope. British Racing Green, wood dashboard and a four-stroke engine. He had only seen one MG-TD, when he'd gone on holiday with his folks to the U.K. They had been walking down the street in downtown London. Most of the traffic had been pedestrian or cyclist. The occasional fuel-cell car glided by like a ghostly leftover from the Vehicular Age. Double-decker biodiesel buses roared past regularly, trailing the odor of fish and chips after them. And then it came down the street toward them. A car that purred as its rounded lines soaked up the sun with a green so deep it was almost black. It pulled into the valet parking of a grand hotel and two people got out. Aage barely noticed them. He stared inside the car, where chrome and brass gleamed against a burled wood dashboard. The doors of the car shut with the heavy thunk of real metal. A valet pulled the car out of the parking circle and Aage never saw it again. Question: At the end of the story, Aage's mom most likely: Options: - Buys herself the MG-TD car - Buys Aage the MG-TD car - not enough information - Does not bid on the car auction for him === The correct answer is
**Answer**
Does not bid on the car auction for him

*Question*
Went straight from a facility that deals with homeless children (492 1st Ave, Manhattan, New York) to the extreme outskirts of Queens near Kennedy Airport about 20 miles away. It was winter and I had no coat. I had my book bag and my sole Trader Joe's bag of clothing and was loaded into a van with three social workers. During the long drive in traffic, I fell asleep, so waking up at my new home, I couldn't make out any street signs and the numbering on the houses did not indicate whether I was in a home in the Bronx or Eastern Queens (which share the same street numbering in certain instances). My foster parents showed me my room and left a plate of food on the table. They barricaded themselves in their bedroom quite like how pilots barricade themselves behind the fortified cockpit door. However, my room didn't have a lock, and neither did the bathroom. There were bars on my windows with a view of a church parking lot. I took great care to avoid waking a significantly older teen (I was 14, so he must have been 1920) sleeping on the other bed. I heard two other kids (my foster siblings) in the other room playing music and giggling loudly at 3 in the morning. At 4 in the morning, my foster father started reading the Quran pretty loudly, and then he goes back to bed. In the morning, my foster parents are gone. My foster siblings are all sleeping. I got up at 7, but I don't know how far I am from my high school, what buses/train will take me there, and still don't know anything about anything about my new home. I don't even know the names of those I'm relegated to living with. The unnerving strangeness and disorientation hat comes with knowing that your life has changed and the culture shock that comes with that is so scary and desensitizes you on that first day. Question: Who fell asleep on the van? Options: - a baby - not enough information - An adopted child - A foster child === The correct answer is
**Answer**
A foster child