Q: 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. Question: At the time, author probably believes that: Options: A. her parents would be happy B. her parents would be horrified C. not enough information D. her parents would be ashamed === The correct answer is
A: B

Q: The sound of the clacking grew unbearable, so we turned the volume down. "Mute it." We muted it. "Turn it up; we might miss something." It's a silent movie. We won't miss anything. The sound of clacking gradually fills the room as my brother reluctantly turns up the volume. I can tell he's pressing hard on the button, jamming his thumb down in defiance or muted anger. He doesn't like for anyone to tell him what to do with the remote. But my grandmother wants the volume up, so we turn it up. We're all sitting along the edges of the tiny living room, staring at the fuzzy black-and-white images as they hazily walk across the television screen. I can hear a siren outside, barely discernable and then gone entirely. "Who's that?" my brother asks, evidently past his momentary and barely-noticeable indignation over the remote. "Uncle Arehl, and maybe his sister, Edna," my grandmother says, leaning in closer. "I think it's Edna," she says, in the tone of a doctor diagnosing a disease, as if the verdict was somehow relevant to someone who has only the vaguest idea who Arehl's sister is, or was. Uncle Arehl (I don't know precisely whose uncle he is, or for what the two initials of his name once stood) saunters slowly across a dry, patchy lawn, and the camera follows him. For some reason I'm more interested in the lawn--if it can be called that--than in the people on it. The sun in the movie is blazing, and everyone filmed looks only briefly at the camera before averting their faces once again to look at the stubbly grass. The camera pans once again and I can see an incredibly rutted path leading from the porch to the fence at the edge of the yard, broken pieces of concrete amid deep tire tracks fossilized in sun-baked mud. The fence is low, wire like a chain-link, but lower, with metal stakes holding it up instead of tubes. Question: Who wanted the volume up? Options: A. not enough information B. Grandmother C. The narrator. D. The brother. === The correct answer is
A: B

Q: Staying in our apartment on the North Shore of Vancouver, we were tucked into a sleepy, suburban idyll where once off the busy highway, kids played ball games in the street and cats strolled around their own home territories without a care in the world. It is also home to the famous Capilano Suspension Bridge, but warned that the crowds in mid-August would be overwhelming, we were given the tipoff that the Lynn Canyon Suspension Bridge and the surrounding park is a lovely place to while away an afternoon. Smaller, free and with loads of walks and picnic areas, I sent my intrepid husband ahead to brave the canyon bridge whilst I sipped a much-needed coffee in the local cafe. It was beautiful. It's mostly because the thought of hopping onto a swaying bridge above the ravine gives me the heebie-jeebies, whereas he will stride across panels of transparent glass suspended metres above busy streets (like Tower Bridge) or gondola rides that skim well above the treetops (like Japan lake or the Bavarian Alpine range.) Watching the shower of golden pine needles drift down from the redwoods whilst I typed out a blog post, I enjoyed seeing squirrels scamper and birds twitter their way around the boughs and branches. That blur below? A local black squirrel who was foraging amongst the cooing tourists for snacks About 20 minutes later his grinning face floated back into view, and he brandished his phone with images of his quick wander through the trails. Lynn Canyon Park officially opened to the public in 1912; there are several trails throughout the park to choose from for a leisurely hike including the popular Baden Powell Trail and there are also many breathtaking waterfalls and popular swimming holes which are perfect during the summer months. Lynn Canyon Park covers 617 acres today and comprises of second growth forest with most of the trees aged approximately 80 to 100 years old. Question: Who lived in an apartment on the North Shore of Vancouver in the story? Options: A. not enough information B. the author C. the author's mother D. the author's granddaughter === The correct answer is
A: B