Problem:OPTIONS:
- his siblings
- his girlfriend
- his foster parents
- not enough information

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 showed him the room? === The answer to the above question is
****
A: his foster parents

"That's Glenn Miller," my father said. "But it can't be." He had the back of the hospital bed cranked upright, the lower lid of his left eye creeping up in a warning signal I'd learned to recognize as a child. My older sister Ann had settled deep in the recliner, and she glared at me too, blaming me for winding him up. The jam box sat on the rolling tray table and my father was working the remote as he talked, backing up my newly burned CD and letting it spin forward to play a few seconds of low fidelity trombone solo. "You know the tune, of course," he said. "'King Porter Stomp.'" Those childhood years of listening to him play Glenn Miller on the console phonograph were finally paying off. "He muffed the notes the same way on the Victor version." "So why can't it be Miller?" I asked. "He wouldn't have played with a rabble like that." The backup musicians teetered on the edge of chaos, playing with an abandon somewhere between Dixieland and bebop. "They sound drunk." My father had a major emotional investment in Miller. He and my mother had danced to the Miller band at Glen Island Casino on Long Island Sound in the summer of 1942, when they were both sixteen. That signature sound of clarinet and four saxes was forever tied up for him with first love and the early, idealistic months of the war. But there was a better reason why it couldn't have been Miller playing that solo. If the date on the original recording was correct, he was supposed to have died three days earlier. The date was in India ink on a piece of surgical tape, stuck to the top of a spool of recording wire. The handwritten numerals had the hooks and day-first order of Europe: 18/12/44. I'd won it on eBay the week before as part of a lot that included a wire recorder and a stack of 78s by French pop stars like Charles Trenent and Edith Piaf. Question: What does Ann probably think? === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- That her brother needs to learn to play a clarinet.
- not enough information
- That her brother should not get the father excited.
- That her brother needs to stop buying things off eBay.
That her brother should not get the father excited.

Problem: OPTIONS:
- not enough information
- The author was having an emergency and needed to see a psychologist.
- Arnold had cut the skin off from his arm.
- A person had slit their arm in the restroom cubicle.
Q: I'm know 21 so I'm going to count that still as a kid because the world is still new to me. I work know security and one night at around 2am I walked in the bathroom because a customer complained about a man yelling in the bathroom. I told my partner I would go check it out by myself so he could stay and keep quality control of who comes in the venue. I walk in and in the first cubicle I could see lots and lots of blood on the floor and a pair of feet placed as if he was sitting down. I quickly go to the next cubicle asking at the same time if the person was OK obviously with no response. I look over and it was a horrible bloody mess. I quickly get on the radio and tell my partner to call police and ambulance and to put the place on lock down. I walk around to the from of the cubicle and kick open the door. The man had grabbed a straight razor and cut his arms extremely deep from the wrist downwards all the way to his elbow palms up. On both arms mind you. A good example of what it would look like would be the scene from the terminator 2 where Arnold cuts the skin off from his arm. The ambulance came and had to call another team to collect the body. The building was closed for around a day and a half they had to repaint and do all sorts of things because of so much blood. Ill say they do not train you for seeing such horrible things or even mention that it can happen I'm lucky enough to have a strong head and can handle seeing such horror. Of course Im not 100% OK from it and now keep a close eye on the bathrooms. But I'm OK enough to continue working and only saw a psychologist twice about it. So yea that's the worst thing I have seen In my life. Question: Why did the ambulance have to come? === The answer to the above question is
Answer:
A person had slit their arm in the restroom cubicle.