Question: SHE moved through the crowded streets like she owned the place. Hell, if things went as planned in the coming months, she might in fact own the place. Or some other place if that's what she wanted. If things went as planned, there was no limit to what she could have. She smiled to herself as a crowd of sunburned, middle-aged men broke ranks to let her pass on her way toward Mallory Square. They had no idea who she was, but she liked to think that they could sense her strength and that it intimidated them. Not enough to stop them from staring openly at her chest of course, but what did she expect? They were still men. Duval Street, Key West's main tourist drag, buzzed with early evening activity. The sun had set less than an hour ago, and the throngs moving up from the nightly sunset ritual in Mallory Square now wandered about, trying to choose between the dozens of bars and restaurants vying for their attention. She moved against the general flow and seemed to know exactly where she was going. She knew these streets well and had planned out her route ahead of time. But something bothered her. That nagging feeling in the back of her brain that she'd long ago learned to heed even though it was wrong as often as it was right. You couldn't survive in her world without learning to pay attention to such feelings, and she'd more than survived - she'd prospered beyond the dreams of any young hacker or con artist. Heeding the subliminal warning, she changed plans and stepped out into the crawling Duval Street traffic. A purple taxi honked angrily but she just smiled as she strode across the street and stared intently at a display of cheap, tasteless T-shirts in a storefront window. What is she wearing? A. not enough information B. A sundress and strappy sandals. C. Shorts and a t-shirt. D. A business suit and heels.
Answer: A

Question: Ok, this one is not missing a class but much better story IMO. When I was in middle school, if you didn't have homework completed or goofed off in some way, teachers could make you stay after school for 'after school help.' It was essentially a mandatory study hall and if a teacher called you out, you had no choice in the matter. Now, I was in Biology class towards end of my middle school career and was sitting at one of those lab tables next to another student. We both had newspaper routes (yes, people actually delivered actual newspapers to people's homes in the 1980s), so it would make us late for our deliveries if we were made to stay after school. This biology teacher would check our vocabulary assignment every week and I totally spaced it this week - Oh Crap! Now, my lab mate had most of his done, but just didn't quite finish. Our teacher is working his way around the classroom checking assignments. So, he checks my lab partner, "well Scott, looks like you will be staying after school today." This fellow student knew I didn't have mine either, but also knew I was a pretty good student. I feel like I am sweating bullets and trembling as the teacher approaches me. In a near panic, I reach into my folder and pull out a prior week's assignment. He looks it over and says "OK, good job" or something like that. Scott is looking at me in utter disbelief. Even funnier was the fact that this week's assignment required 67 pages of paper to complete. The one I had blindly grabbed from folder had 2 pages, with barely anything in second page. It was totally obvious what I had done, but our teacher gave me a break that day. I managed to make it thru all three years without needing any 'after school help!' This was a large public school and they still paddled students if the infraction was serious enough. I know none of that is allowed these days, but those were both good deterrents for me!! After the end of the story, did the lab partner manage to deliver his papers that day A. he did not deliver them B. not enough information C. he did deliver them D. no he had to get someone else to
Answer: C

Question: So, I worked with a friend of mine who was a playwright to put together a play to take to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. It was a three person show, and one of the roles was written specifically for me. Many of the lines were written after we improvised the scenes in my living room as she wrote the piece. Took it to Scotland, where it was quite well received. A year or so later, it was being produced in New York in a much more prestigious setting. I auditioned, was called back a couple times, and got to the play the role again. Fantastic! THEN, it was produced by an even larger theatre. Different producer, different casting director, etc. I went to the open call for it, and the casting director treated me really poorly. It was odd. She looked at my resume and said, "It says you have already played this role." I said, "Yes, I was fortunate enough to workshop it and originate the role." She looked at me like I was lying. I mean, shuttled me out the door like I was a crazy woman. Needless to say, I was not called back. And that was okay(I mean, of course I wanted to do the show with this group of people, but hey, we can't always get what we want). Fast forward to opening night: my playwright friend invites me to see the show. The actress playing "my" role was fantastic, but they had to change lines in the script that indicated what she looked like, because she was of Hawaiian descent. Again, no big dealand she was great! What was strange was meeting the director that evening. My friend introduced me as the originator of the role, and the director asked me why I hadn't auditionedOverall, it wasn't a harsh rejection or a terrible story, it was just weird to have been treated like a liar when I was not lying Who wrote the play the actor performed in at Edinburgh Fringe Festival? A. the actor's husband B. the actor's son C. the actor's friend D. not enough information
Answer:
C