Sondra arrived at 1:00 PM sharp. Billy-Eye's Arcade and Dance Barn was located on Highway 87, north of town. She was not impressed. It was nothing but a huge commercial metal building with the name painted in big lettering across the front. There were about fifteen cars in the small gravel parking lot--mostly older models like hers. She walked in, and saw a line of people standing at a closed office door. Clearly, they were band members waiting to register for an audition. A couple of the guys had their electric guitars strapped on their backs. Sondra was quite familiar with Billy-Eye and his two sons. She'd eaten her share of Buttard Biscuits growing up. And she still remembered the time in high school when Craig walked up to her in the hallway and asked her for a date. She had nearly laughed in his face. He was just a kid--three grades below her. A couple of years later, when she found out about his reputation as a stud, she wished she had accepted his offer. She would have given the little punk the ride of his life. While she was still thinking about Craig, the office door opened, and he walked out. He glanced at the long line of rockers. "Okay, we're about to get started, Guys." Then he spotted Sondra at the back of the line. The blonde six-footer was not easy to miss. "Sondra Crench? Is that you?" He walked up to her. "How are you, Craig?" "Well, I'm impressed that you remember me. So, you're here to sign up?" "Yeah." He checked out the young men standing in front of her. "Are these guys with you?" "No." "Well, where's your band?" "I'm working on it." "Follow me." She hesitated. There were at least thirty people in front of her in line. "Come on," he insisted. She followed him into the office. Who else is in the office? Pick the correct answer from the following options: - Billy-Eye - Craig's brother - not enough information - a band
not enough information

"What was your worst makeup disaster?" Do fingernails count? I hope so, because this is a good one: I was 21 years old. I worked for a major commercial airline. A friend of mine and I decided to go to Puerto Rico for a long weekend. It was our first trip to Puerto Rico. The hotel at which we stayed had a lovely (classy/expensive) restaurant serving continental fare. So, we decided to have our first dinner there. We dressed to the nines. Our hair and makeup were perfect. I had fake fingernails (not acrylic - those were fairly new back then. I had the type one glues on). Those fingernails were long, and painted a very bright - and obvious - red. When the waiter came to take our drink order, we both ordered glasses of wine. The waiter brought the wine, set it down on the table, and waited to take our meal orders. I smoked back then, and at the time, smoking was still allowed in restaurants. In a 21-year-old attempt to look classy and sophisticated, at that moment I took out a cigarette, put it between my lips, picked up my lighter, and lit my cigarette - or so I thought. Unfortunately, my long, red, fake thumbnail got in the way of the flame, and it caught on fire. The waiter's mouth dropped open, his eyes wide. He froze in place. I was horrified. The flame was literally shooting up from my nail! And smoke; the nail was plastic! Quickly scanning the table for the closest thing with which I could extinguish the flame, I spied my glass of wine. As nonchalantly as possible, I stuck my thumb in the glass. There was a sizzle as the flaming nail hit the wine. When I withdrew my thumb from the glass, the nail was melted, black, and curled under. Ever the professional, the waiter regained his composure and proceeded to take our orders without missing a beat - but I'm sure I was the talk of the kitchen for the rest of the evening. So much for my attempt at appearing "classy" and "sophisticated". What does the narrator think of th restaurant? Pick the correct answer from the following options: - It is not sophisticated enough - It is not very expensive - not enough information - It is classy and expensive
It is classy and expensive

*Question*
My dream. I dreamt that is was living in France in the 1920. I was living my apartment, I glanced at my reflection, I was wearing a knee length pencil length green skirt, white silk blouse, green jacket to match, white wrist length gloves. On my head I wore a green felt hat, with a long green head pin, to keep the hat on my head. Green shoes and clutch to match. I was afraid, so I took a breath, opened the door, walked out and locked the door. I walked down the stairs, waved to Jean Paul the night concierge, he told me to be careful and have a goodnight, I told him I will see him later. I walked out the front door, turned left and walked down the alley to get to the boulevard. When I got half way through the alley, I heard footsteps. I began walking a little faster. Then a man called my name.. Ana, I turned and saw he had a gun. I screamed and began running. Before I got to the boulevard he shot me in the back, I fell knees first, then I tried to brace myself with my hands. But it was useless, I fell face to the ground, it was an excruciating burning pain. I began to cry, I could see my clutch not to far from me, the content from my clutch lipstick, compact and money scattered. Then I heard his footsteps, he stopped at my head, crunch down, he took his thumb and wiped my lipstick from my bottom lip. I asked him why, in a whisper, because it hurt to talk. He laughed, and said that I was a stupid girl, and that if he could not have me no one else should. He got up and walked away. He left me there dying, I felt that I could not breath and litterly jumped out of the dream. The weird part was that for several days after, I had that burning sensation in the same place I got shot. Why did Ana get killed in the dream? Pick the correct answer from the following options: - She screamed. - A man shot her. - not enough information - She ran away.
**Answer**
A man shot her.