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PROSE FICTION: The following passage
is adapted from a short story.
Emma stepped from the sticky heat of the longest
day of the year into the cool front hallway and
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breathed deeply. Her skin prickled with the sudden
chill of air conditioning and her eyes began
to adjust to the darkness. Nana always kept the
slatted shutters sealed tight against the blazing
sunlight, and Emma loved coming inside to the
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cool air of the foyer, filled with the scent
of Nana's Shalimar perfume.
"Nana, I'm here," she called. "Can I help
you set up?"
Nana's voice wafted out from the kitchen, along
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with the buttery aroma of spritz cookies coming
out of the oven. "In here, dear," she warbled.
"The card table is already set, but you can
pour the lemonade while the cookies cool."
Emma skipped through the den into the kitchen,
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trailing her fingertips along the exposed brick
walls. She could navigate Nana's house blind,
she thought, just by feeling her way along, where
the brick turned to polished tile, and the tile
to wooden paneling, and the paneling to gold
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brocaded wallpaper that Abba had put up himself,
long before Emma was born, when her mother was
"knee-high to a grasshopper," as Nana said.
Sometimes, when Emma slept over, she would creep
into the dark of Abba's office, late at night
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after Nana had gone to bed. She thought she could
still get a faint hint of his fragrant pipe smoke
if she pressed her nose right up against the
space above his desk, her knees squishing into
the leather blotter stained with ink from his
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fountain pen.
Nana had already set out four tall highball glasses,
and one squat tumbler just for Emma. Emma filled
each with five perfectly square ice cubes-she
loved the precise look of the cubes in the glasses-and
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poured the lemonade to an inch below the lip,
as Nana had taught her. Then, using the knife
that fit exactly in her small hands, she sliced
a lemon thinly, flicking out the seeds with the
tip of the blade, and slid each round onto the
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rim of the glass. Perfect.
"Here you go, Nana," Emma said, making sure
her shoulders were back and her spine aligned,
like a proper young woman.
The old woman looked over. Her smile made Emma
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glow. "Lovely, dear. Do you think you can carry
that tray into the card room all by yourself?"
Emma nodded and, with a deep breath, wrapped her
fingers around the lacquered handles of the tray.
She stepped slowly, carefully, through the hallway
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to the card room and set the tray on the sideboard.
She knew exactly how the afternoon would progress:
Tante Lolly would arrive first and take the seat
nearest the window, with the ficus plant looming
over her jet-black beehive. Emma's mother looked
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just like a younger version of Lolly, everyone
said-as though the wrong sister had given birth
to her. Then Sadie and Gladys would show up,
on time if Sadie had driven, late if Gladys had,
and bicker over who would sit to Nana's right.
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Sadie usually ended up in the seat on the right,
but if she started laying down the best tiles
as the game's rounds progressed, Gladys would
grumble that it was all rigged, which always
made Emma chuckle inside. Throughout it all,
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Nana would sit with her back, ramrod straight,
to the sideboard, the East Wind in the game,
and Emma would perch on the small stool at her
side, always ready to jump up to fetch more cookies
for the ladies to nibble on, or refill their
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glasses with fresh lemonade.
Her friends thought it was strange that she would
skip a chance to play Dance Dance Revolution
or bike down to the neighborhood pool, but Emma
cherished these summer afternoons with Nana.
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Not because she got to practice how to be a gracious
and elegant hostess, although Nana was so proud
of her for how ladylike and grown-up she was
becoming. No; Emma loved sitting in the dim light
of the chilly card room with the Mah-Jongg ladies,
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listening to them trade gossip, recipes, and
a lifetime of shared memories while they almost
unconsciously slapped down their tiles to build
walls and score points. Winning, in the long
run, was irrelevant. The Mah-Jongg ladies had
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known each other since they were Emma's age,
and had played every week since they were young
wives, many years ago. Emma breathed in their
chattered memories like oxygen, promising silently
never, ever to forget.
1.
According to the passage, one of the virtues of a well-behaved young girl is:
walking slowly.
breathing deeply.
maintaining excellent posture.
remembering the past.
2.
The passage takes place during:
June.
October.
March.
January.
3.
The narrator's description of the weekly Mah-Jongg gathering indicates that Emma finds it:
tediously repetitive and dull.
a stressful test of her skill.
a boring, old-fashioned game.
an inspiring and memorable ritual.
4.
Which of the ladies is Emma's great-aunt?
Sadie
Lolly
Gladys
None of the above.
5.
The passage compares Emma's learning about the lives of her elders to:
dancing.
breathing.
school.
friendship.
6.
The fourth paragraph implies that Emma:
looks for comfort and security in dark, musty rooms.
relies more upon tactile than visual sensations for direction.
feels a strong connection to her grandparents and, through them, to her family's past.
may be losing her sight, and relishes the scents and textiles of her grandmother's house.
7.
The passage suggests that Emma is unusual for her age because:
she works as a domestic aide instead of attending school.
most children would not want to stay inside with their elders on a summer day.
she stands with her shoulders back and spine aligned.
her hostessing skills are far more advanced than her chronological age would indicate.
8.
As compared to her friends, Emma appears to be:
less outgoing and more introverted and withdrawn.
silently mocking the activities of people her own age.
seeking out her place in the world of hostessing.
more mature and understanding of the importance of tradition.
9.
The statement, "Winning, in the long run, was irrelevant" in the last paragraph conveys the sense that Emma believes the Mah-Jongg game is:
impossible for a young person to win.
rigged in Sadie's favor.
more about camaraderie than scoring points.
boring and incomprehensible.
10.
Which of the following does Emma seem to find the most amusing?
The way Gladys implies that Sadie cheats at Mah-Jongg
The process by which Sadie is able to sit to Nana's right
Watching Nana take her seat with her back perfectly straight
Hearing how her mother is the spitting image of a young Lolly
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