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: What is probably true about the author? Options: - He was cold - not enough information - He was on vacation - He had a tan === The correct answer is
He was cold

Oh, yes, I accidentally insulted a bully. It was awesome. This was about a month ago. It was the last day I worked. Memorial Day at the city rec center is SLOW, especially when it's beautiful outside, but for some reason, we had two front desk attendants: me, and "bully #1". Bully #1 clearly had a major distaste for me. She hated my tattoos, the way I would get into a heated debate one day with a police officer patron, then have a fantastic conversation with him days later about legalizing marijuana. She hated that I was liked, but still could give fuck-all about what others thought of me. Bully #2 was our financial director, who got stuck as the manager on duty that day. I honestly never had a clue she didn't like me. She was intense and sarcastic with everyone. I liked her style. On this day, I really got the feeling they were trash talking me pretty hard, the way they kept disappearing, talking over me, laughing like mean girls. I blew it off, because I was down an internet rabbit hole, trying to wrap my brain around some concepts. I was looking at a word, and while I like to think I know exact definitions, sometimes I ask people their take on it. Many psychological terms have some subjective meaning. I spun around in my chair, locked eyes with #2, and asked her: "What do you know about Machiavellianism?" I swear to God, all I wanted was her take on it (she's a smart cookie), and all hell broke loose. I now realize that she thought I was passive-aggressively accusing her of said word. They got really nasty (behind my back, of course). They retreated to the back for awhile, and left me by myself. Cue loud, mean girl laughter. When #1 resumed her post next to me at the front desk, I calmly told her, "I'm cashing out, and leaving. I'm uncomfortable." And I did. It was noon. We were closing at 1. I figured those bitches could handle it on their own. Question: At the end of the story the writer: Options: - going out with the girls - is relaxing at home - not enough information - playing ball at the rec center === The correct answer is
is relaxing at home

(Q).
We had a light bulb that stopped working and when a new bulb was placed it wouldn't light up. We eventually had a technician from John Moore come out to fix this problem. He was nice enough and took the time to explain to me why it had stopped working and how he would fix this. After about 30 minutes he had completed this and then offered as a free service to inspect the electrical parts of the house. He went out back to the fuse box to look and then after inspection offered to show me what he had found. It was mid to late afternoon in the back yard and that's when the sun is aiming straight to my back yard. I should mention we live in Texas. He went over ever single fuse and wire that we had and explained about the piping and all the other things that go with it and that what we have isn't what is recommended anymore. Our house was about 9 years old at the time. We were back there for more than 90 minutes. I started getting very restless because I wanted to work on dinner, the sun was blazing hot and I needed to do many other things. It was coming up on 5 o'clock. He then went to his truck to write up an estimate. After 20 minutes or so he comes back and tells me it will be about $10,000 to fix our fuse box system. So what started out for changing a light bulb was going to end up costing 10K. We did later get it looked at by someone else that is qualified in this field,m who was there working on some other project and he said there was nothing wrong with what we had. Question: How long after the electrician left did the author eat dinner? Options: - Not until four hours later - Very soon after - Not until midnight - not enough information === The correct answer is
(A).
Very soon after