That day, my mother picked me up from school, wearing the yellow sundress and shawl I remembered from our trip with Father the year before. She looked just like she did most days back then--a glamour queen, a movie star ("Just like Lena Horne," my friend Chloe had once said, "only darker--oh, sorry, Leah!"), but today her beauty somehow had a harder, more defiant edge to it. I could smell the expensive Dior perfume as soon as I opened the door, which surprised me, because my mom was usually fastidious about not getting perfume on her clothes. She was wearing her bug glasses--huge dark things with lenses that bulged out like fly eyes and reflected my face like a fun-house mirror. She had tied a yellow silk scarf around her hair and was taking deep pulls on a cigarette held between two immaculately manicured fingers. Only I knew about the nicotine stains she carefully covered with her special order "forest sable" cream each morning. Tiffany, a stupid but vicious senator's daughter who I had the misfortune of sharing a classroom with, suddenly dashed from inside the school, her face flushed. "Hello, Mrs. Wilson," she called. Before my mother could respond, she giggled and ran back to three of her friends waiting beyond the door. I could hear them laughing, but I was glad I couldn't understand their words. They were all fascinated with my mother--the black housekeeper who dressed like Katharine Hepburn and drove a Cadillac, whose daughter's "light toffee" skin indicated that she might just like her coffee with a lot of cream. Sometimes I hated those girls. "Get in the car, Leah," my mother said. Her already husky voice was pitched low, as though she'd been crying. That made me nervous. Why was she here? "Ma, Chloe was going to show me her dad's new camera. Can't I go home on the bus?" My mom pulled on the cigarette until it burned the filter, and then ground it into the car ashtray--already filled with forty or so butts. She always emptied out the ashtray each evening. Who wore a silk scarf? A. Mrs. Wilson B. Leah C. Chloe D. not enough information
A

SEOUL Despite recent tensions over North Korea's nuclear and missile tests, life is actually quite normal for American military families living at Camp Humphreys in South Korea, which is the largest overseas Army installation in the world. Lieutenant Colonel Joseph Puskas tries to come to most of his daughters' high school soccer games at Camp Humphreys. In fact, his family's lifestyle at this sprawling U.S. military base is similar to one they would lead back home. "We go to church on Sundays. We see all our friends there. We're on the soccer field most of the afternoons, or just going for bike ride, the same things we would do if we were back in the States," said Lieutenant Colonel Joseph Puskas, with the U.S. Eight Army. This is Puskas' fourth tour in Korea. He met and married his Korean wife Mi-jung, during an earlier tour. His children have spent much of their lives at military bases in Korea. "I think it has given me a wider world view and has helped me understand other people a lot more," said Elizabeth Puskas, the eldest daughter of the family who will attend college next year in the United States. The U.S. military in Korea is consolidating its forces in Camp Humphreys, including its military headquarters, as it moves to close older bases in congested Seoul and other regions of the country. Camp Humphreys is now the size of a small city, encompassing over 140 square kilometers of land, with construction underway to expand its capacity to accommodate over 40,000 people. There are modern apartments for soldiers and their families, schools, movie theaters, shopping centers and fast food restaurants to help bring some of the comforts of home to military life in Korea. The base even has its own golf course. "I have been around the army for part of the last 40 years as a soldier and now as a civilian, and this is as normal as any army post I've ever been on. In fact it is probably the nicest one I've been on because everything is new," said Bob McElroy, a Camp Humphreys public affairs officer. How long does the Puskas family usually attend church for? A. three hours. B. two hours. C. an hour. D. not enough information
C

"That'll be $9.87." Rebecca Ranghorn flipped up the top of the box, pulled out a glazed donut, and took bite. The young secretary behind her looked on in disbelief. She was so ready for the weekend. But first she had to get to the office and put in her lousy eight hours. Why couldn't this woman just pay and get out of the way? Rebecca tossed the box at the clerk. A couple of donuts flew out and fell on the floor behind the counter. "Those are yesterday's donuts. I told you to give me the fresh ones." "But, ma'am, these are the fresh--." The look in her eyes stopped him cold. He dumped the box in the trash and picked out a fresher dozen. "Now, that'll be $9.87, please." "Keep your drawers on, Jack." She sampled the new batch. "That's more like it." She threw a ten dollar bill on the counter and walked out with her donuts and large bottle of orange juice. Her enormous black 1979 Lincoln Continental Town Car was four feet longer and twice the weight of the young secretary's Toyota Corolla parked next to it. It was costing her a fortune to drive her dad's old car. But it made her feel close to him--even though he had been dead for eleven years. She rarely had an occasion to drive out of town--and it was not a big town. Sherman, Texas has about 36,000 residents. She pulled into the old strip mall parking lot. Most of the stores and other businesses were barely hanging on. The place hadn't seen decent shopping traffic since the 1980s. But it was the perfect location for Rebecca and her partner. They didn't need shoppers. All they needed was cheap office space. Theirs was narrow, but deep, with a reception area, two offices and a bathroom. When did Rebecca give the cashier the money? A. After she tasted the donut B. While she was tasting the donut C. not enough information D. Before she tasted the donut
A