Ques: "Hey, Natalie! Nice sweatshirt!" I was passing through the hallways of school last year, being messenger boy for the teachers, when this girl walked up to me. I had no clue who she was, but I thought she was a year younger than me. That's why I thought it was weird that she said my name. But the "nice sweatshirt" bit was what really got me. I wasn't even wearing my sweatshirt. So. There was a substitute teacher in my literacy class, so my class was split. half of us did actual work, and the other half watched a documentary. Ben, Evan, Isabelle and myself were put together in the class watching the super boring documentary. We got bored, so, when Ben left the classroom for a bit and left his jacket behind, I don't remember why, but, I put on his sweatshirt and traded it for mine. This turned into everyone swapping sweatshirts for the next hour until school was out. At one point I was called to the office to deliver a message to a different classroom. I walked out of the office with the information, and turned around at the sound of my name. "Hey, Natalie! Nice sweatshirt!" I smiled and thanked her like the nice human being I want people to think I am. Once she started down the stairs I looked down at my sweatshirt. Black and orange? Nike? But my sweatshirt's gray and purple! Then I remembered our little game of "try not to get caught swapping sweatshirts and giggling". I wasn't wearing my sweatshirt. Someone else had it. I was wearing Evan's. It's also kind of sad because that was one of the only compliments I've gotten from a stranger all year. Complimented on something that wasn't even mine Welcome to my life, everybody! What did she pick up off the chair? Pick the correct answer from the following options: - Ben's Sweatshirt - A book - a message for the office. - not enough information
Ans: Ben's Sweatshirt

Ques: I don't reckon the sun's ever come up quite the same since the day it happened. I've been watching it for years now and to me it still don't look right somehow. Maybe it's just me thinking it, sending myself doolally after what I've done. But I swear every morning it creeps up and it's looking at me, all knowing like. And when you reckon the sun's acting like that over you there isn't a right lot you can do about it, beyond burying yourself away like a mole in the soil. That's what I've been doing more or less in the score or so years that have gone by since. But however tight I shut them curtains to stop that damn sun lighting me up, it still don't stop the inside of my head from pounding out the truth. No way it's ever going to stop harassing me neither, not unless the deaf and dumb lass was to happen right back on my doorstep and give me the chance to tell her that it wasn't never meant to work out this way. The deaf and dumb lass went by the name of Mitzi Barker. Her being deaf and dumb, she was the kind of lass you went up the lane with if you didn't want no-one shouting their gob off about it after. Funny but it's the small things I recall best about her, like the way her hair reeked of bonfires and how that little old checkered dress of hers rode right up her thigh with no help from me. After we'd finished our business we'd head over the trout farm and I'd hunker down and poach us up a couple of rainbows for our tea. That Mitzi Barker, she was thin as an ear of barley and I always figured a good nosh-up was the least I could do for her troubles. What does the narrator think is different since the event took place? Pick the correct answer from the following options: - The lake. - The sunrise. - not enough information - The ocean.
Ans: The sunrise.

Ques: Thanks for the A2A Josh: Tough one to reduce to just a single incident but I'll try. I grew up in North Central Indiana, about 50 miles south of South Bend. It was common to have frequent snow accumulation in the winter and blustery, freezing temps. It seems like this was particularly true during my childhood in the 70's and 80's. My family was blue collar through and through. We lived in the heartland in a town of just a few hundred with a sawmill and an on again off again gas station as our only two businesses. My dad worked in a factory for roughly 45 years. He apparently started that job right out of high school. My mom was an incredibly hard worker and Still is to this day. She did factory work, restaurant management and everything in between. It was this Protestant work ethic that led to one of the frequent tasks that my brother and I had to do which was not fun but ultimately was a very good deed. As I said, winters were often snowy and harsh. So my mom would make my brother and me shovel driveways and sidewalks for a couple of elderly residents. We did this of course, after we did our own driveway. Some people had motorized snowblowers but we did not. Standard snow shovels were our tools. I remember us whining about the chore, wishing we could just play in the snow or get out of it altogether. I don't remember being overly conscious of the relief this provided for our elderly neighbors. I just remember that Mom would be disappointed if we didn't do a good job. Later in life I would have great appreciation for the things required of me by my parents. Factory work and summer farm jobs helped us learn the value of hard work and would set us on a road to appreciation of future job opportunities that were less taxing. I still remember hating shoveling snow. But I'm forever grateful that I did it. After having their snow shoveled, the elderly residents are probably: Pick the correct answer from the following options: - not enough information - Annoyed that it was done without their permission - Feeling sorry for the children that have to shovel the snow - Grateful
Ans:
Grateful