Day 2 Year 6 English Trial Test

Read the story below then answer the questions that follow.

Extract A: From “The Bone Clocks” by David Mitchell

I count up £13.85 saved in notes and coins. I’ve £80 more in my TSB bank book. It’s not like Vinny’ll charge me rent, and I’ll look for a job next week. Babysitting, working in the market, waitressing: there’s loads of ways to earn a few quid. What about my LPs? I can’t lug the whole collection over to Peacock Street now, and Mam’s quite capable of dumping them at the Oxfam shop out of spite, so I just take Fear of Music, wrapping it carefully in my bomber jacket and putting it into my bag so it won’t get bent. I hide the others under the loose floorboard, just for now, but as I’m putting the carpet back, l get the fright of my life: Jacko’s watching me from the doorway. He’s still in his Thunderbirds pyjamas and slippers.

l tell him, ‘Mister, you just gave me a heart-attack.‘ ‘

You’re going.’ Jacko’s got this not-quite-here voice.

‘Just between us, yes, I am. But not far, don’t worry.‘ ‘

I’ve made you a souvenir, to remember me by.’ Jacko hands me a circle of cardboard – a flattened Dairylea cheese box with a maze drawn on. He’s mad about mazes, is Jacko: it’s all these Dungeons & Dragonsy books him and Sharon read. ‘Take it,’ he tells me. ‘It’s diabolical.‘

‘It doesn’t look all that bad to me.’

I don’t half have a freaky little brother.

‘Right. Well, thanks, Jacko. Look, I’ve got a few things to—’

Jacko holds my wrist.

‘Learn this labyrinth, Holly. Indulge your freaky little brother. Please.‘ That jolts me a bit.

‘Mister, you’re acting all weird.’

‘Promise me you’ll memorise the path through it, so if you ever needed to, you could navigate it in the darkness. Please.‘

My friends’ little brothers are all into Scalextric or BMX or Top Trumps — why do I get one who does this and says words like ‘navigate’ and ‘diabolical’? I muss his hair.

‘Okay, l promise to learn your maze off by heart.’ Then Jacko hugs me, which is weird ’cause Jacko’s not a huggy kid. ‘Hey, I’m not going far . . . You’ll understand when you’re older, and—’

By now I shouldn’t be surprised. ‘Yeah.’ ‘Take care of yourself, Holly.’ ‘

Extract B: From “Starter for Ten” by David Nicholls

Mum comes in, then knocks, and I close the case quickly. She looks teary enough as it is, without Dad’s jacket starting her off again. She has, after all, taken the morning off work especially so that she can cry.

‘Nearly done then?’ ‘Nearly.’ ‘D’you want to take a chip pan with you?’ ‘No, I’ll be fine without, Mum.’

‘But what are you going to eat?’ ‘I do eat things other than chips, you know!’ ‘No, you don’t.’ ‘Well, maybe I’ll start. Anyway, there’s always oven-chips.’ I look around to see that she’s almost smiling.

‘You’d better get going, hadn’t you?’ The train’s not for ages yet, but Mum thinks catching a train is a bit like international air travel, and that you should check in four hours before departure. Not that we’ve been on a plane or anything, but still, it’s a wonder that she hasn’t made me go and get jabs.

‘I’ll go in half an hour,’ I say, and there’s silence. Mum says something but can’t quite get the words out, which means it’s probably along the lines of Dad being proud or something, but she decides to save it for later, and turns and goes. I sit on the suitcase to close it, and then lie on my bed and look round my room for the last time — the kind of moment where, if I smoked, I’d smoke.

I can’t believe it’s actually happening. This is independent adulthood, this is what it feels like. Shouldn’t there be some sort of ritual? In certain remote African tribes there’d be some incredible four-day rites of passage ceremony, and village elders smearing my body, but here, rites of passage is all about three new pairs of pants and stuffing your duvet in a bin-liner.

Answer the questions by choosing the letter of the correct answer.

How do the main characters in both extracts perceive the concept of leaving home?

Read the story below then answer the questions that follow.

Extract A: From “The Bone Clocks” by David Mitchell

I count up £13.85 saved in notes and coins. I’ve £80 more in my TSB bank book. It’s not like Vinny’ll charge me rent, and I’ll look for a job next week. Babysitting, working in the market, waitressing: there’s loads of ways to earn a few quid. What about my LPs? I can’t lug the whole collection over to Peacock Street now, and Mam’s quite capable of dumping them at the Oxfam shop out of spite, so I just take Fear of Music, wrapping it carefully in my bomber jacket and putting it into my bag so it won’t get bent. I hide the others under the loose floorboard, just for now, but as I’m putting the carpet back, l get the fright of my life: Jacko’s watching me from the doorway. He’s still in his Thunderbirds pyjamas and slippers.

l tell him, ‘Mister, you just gave me a heart-attack.‘ ‘

You’re going.’ Jacko’s got this not-quite-here voice.

‘Just between us, yes, I am. But not far, don’t worry.‘ ‘

I’ve made you a souvenir, to remember me by.’ Jacko hands me a circle of cardboard – a flattened Dairylea cheese box with a maze drawn on. He’s mad about mazes, is Jacko: it’s all these Dungeons & Dragonsy books him and Sharon read. ‘Take it,’ he tells me. ‘It’s diabolical.‘

‘It doesn’t look all that bad to me.’

I don’t half have a freaky little brother.

‘Right. Well, thanks, Jacko. Look, I’ve got a few things to—’

Jacko holds my wrist.

‘Learn this labyrinth, Holly. Indulge your freaky little brother. Please.‘ That jolts me a bit.

‘Mister, you’re acting all weird.’

‘Promise me you’ll memorise the path through it, so if you ever needed to, you could navigate it in the darkness. Please.‘

My friends’ little brothers are all into Scalextric or BMX or Top Trumps — why do I get one who does this and says words like ‘navigate’ and ‘diabolical’? I muss his hair.

‘Okay, l promise to learn your maze off by heart.’ Then Jacko hugs me, which is weird ’cause Jacko’s not a huggy kid. ‘Hey, I’m not going far . . . You’ll understand when you’re older, and—’

By now I shouldn’t be surprised. ‘Yeah.’ ‘Take care of yourself, Holly.’ ‘

Extract B: From “Starter for Ten” by David Nicholls

Mum comes in, then knocks, and I close the case quickly. She looks teary enough as it is, without Dad’s jacket starting her off again. She has, after all, taken the morning off work especially so that she can cry.

‘Nearly done then?’ ‘Nearly.’ ‘D’you want to take a chip pan with you?’ ‘No, I’ll be fine without, Mum.’

‘But what are you going to eat?’ ‘I do eat things other than chips, you know!’ ‘No, you don’t.’ ‘Well, maybe I’ll start. Anyway, there’s always oven-chips.’ I look around to see that she’s almost smiling.

‘You’d better get going, hadn’t you?’ The train’s not for ages yet, but Mum thinks catching a train is a bit like international air travel, and that you should check in four hours before departure. Not that we’ve been on a plane or anything, but still, it’s a wonder that she hasn’t made me go and get jabs.

‘I’ll go in half an hour,’ I say, and there’s silence. Mum says something but can’t quite get the words out, which means it’s probably along the lines of Dad being proud or something, but she decides to save it for later, and turns and goes. I sit on the suitcase to close it, and then lie on my bed and look round my room for the last time — the kind of moment where, if I smoked, I’d smoke.

I can’t believe it’s actually happening. This is independent adulthood, this is what it feels like. Shouldn’t there be some sort of ritual? In certain remote African tribes there’d be some incredible four-day rites of passage ceremony, and village elders smearing my body, but here, rites of passage is all about three new pairs of pants and stuffing your duvet in a bin-liner.

Answer the questions by choosing the letter of the correct answer.

What role do siblings play in the narratives of both extracts?

Read the story below then answer the questions that follow.

Extract A: From “The Bone Clocks” by David Mitchell

I count up £13.85 saved in notes and coins. I’ve £80 more in my TSB bank book. It’s not like Vinny’ll charge me rent, and I’ll look for a job next week. Babysitting, working in the market, waitressing: there’s loads of ways to earn a few quid. What about my LPs? I can’t lug the whole collection over to Peacock Street now, and Mam’s quite capable of dumping them at the Oxfam shop out of spite, so I just take Fear of Music, wrapping it carefully in my bomber jacket and putting it into my bag so it won’t get bent. I hide the others under the loose floorboard, just for now, but as I’m putting the carpet back, l get the fright of my life: Jacko’s watching me from the doorway. He’s still in his Thunderbirds pyjamas and slippers.

l tell him, ‘Mister, you just gave me a heart-attack.‘ ‘

You’re going.’ Jacko’s got this not-quite-here voice.

‘Just between us, yes, I am. But not far, don’t worry.‘ ‘

I’ve made you a souvenir, to remember me by.’ Jacko hands me a circle of cardboard – a flattened Dairylea cheese box with a maze drawn on. He’s mad about mazes, is Jacko: it’s all these Dungeons & Dragonsy books him and Sharon read. ‘Take it,’ he tells me. ‘It’s diabolical.‘

‘It doesn’t look all that bad to me.’

I don’t half have a freaky little brother.

‘Right. Well, thanks, Jacko. Look, I’ve got a few things to—’

Jacko holds my wrist.

‘Learn this labyrinth, Holly. Indulge your freaky little brother. Please.‘ That jolts me a bit.

‘Mister, you’re acting all weird.’

‘Promise me you’ll memorise the path through it, so if you ever needed to, you could navigate it in the darkness. Please.‘

My friends’ little brothers are all into Scalextric or BMX or Top Trumps — why do I get one who does this and says words like ‘navigate’ and ‘diabolical’? I muss his hair.

‘Okay, l promise to learn your maze off by heart.’ Then Jacko hugs me, which is weird ’cause Jacko’s not a huggy kid. ‘Hey, I’m not going far . . . You’ll understand when you’re older, and—’

By now I shouldn’t be surprised. ‘Yeah.’ ‘Take care of yourself, Holly.’ ‘

Extract B: From “Starter for Ten” by David Nicholls

Mum comes in, then knocks, and I close the case quickly. She looks teary enough as it is, without Dad’s jacket starting her off again. She has, after all, taken the morning off work especially so that she can cry.

‘Nearly done then?’ ‘Nearly.’ ‘D’you want to take a chip pan with you?’ ‘No, I’ll be fine without, Mum.’

‘But what are you going to eat?’ ‘I do eat things other than chips, you know!’ ‘No, you don’t.’ ‘Well, maybe I’ll start. Anyway, there’s always oven-chips.’ I look around to see that she’s almost smiling.

‘You’d better get going, hadn’t you?’ The train’s not for ages yet, but Mum thinks catching a train is a bit like international air travel, and that you should check in four hours before departure. Not that we’ve been on a plane or anything, but still, it’s a wonder that she hasn’t made me go and get jabs.

‘I’ll go in half an hour,’ I say, and there’s silence. Mum says something but can’t quite get the words out, which means it’s probably along the lines of Dad being proud or something, but she decides to save it for later, and turns and goes. I sit on the suitcase to close it, and then lie on my bed and look round my room for the last time — the kind of moment where, if I smoked, I’d smoke.

I can’t believe it’s actually happening. This is independent adulthood, this is what it feels like. Shouldn’t there be some sort of ritual? In certain remote African tribes there’d be some incredible four-day rites of passage ceremony, and village elders smearing my body, but here, rites of passage is all about three new pairs of pants and stuffing your duvet in a bin-liner.

Answer the questions by choosing the letter of the correct answer.

Which theme is common to both extracts?

Read the story below then answer the questions that follow.

Extract A: From “The Bone Clocks” by David Mitchell

I count up £13.85 saved in notes and coins. I’ve £80 more in my TSB bank book. It’s not like Vinny’ll charge me rent, and I’ll look for a job next week. Babysitting, working in the market, waitressing: there’s loads of ways to earn a few quid. What about my LPs? I can’t lug the whole collection over to Peacock Street now, and Mam’s quite capable of dumping them at the Oxfam shop out of spite, so I just take Fear of Music, wrapping it carefully in my bomber jacket and putting it into my bag so it won’t get bent. I hide the others under the loose floorboard, just for now, but as I’m putting the carpet back, l get the fright of my life: Jacko’s watching me from the doorway. He’s still in his Thunderbirds pyjamas and slippers.

l tell him, ‘Mister, you just gave me a heart-attack.‘ ‘

You’re going.’ Jacko’s got this not-quite-here voice.

‘Just between us, yes, I am. But not far, don’t worry.‘ ‘

I’ve made you a souvenir, to remember me by.’ Jacko hands me a circle of cardboard – a flattened Dairylea cheese box with a maze drawn on. He’s mad about mazes, is Jacko: it’s all these Dungeons & Dragonsy books him and Sharon read. ‘Take it,’ he tells me. ‘It’s diabolical.‘

‘It doesn’t look all that bad to me.’

I don’t half have a freaky little brother.

‘Right. Well, thanks, Jacko. Look, I’ve got a few things to—’

Jacko holds my wrist.

‘Learn this labyrinth, Holly. Indulge your freaky little brother. Please.‘ That jolts me a bit.

‘Mister, you’re acting all weird.’

‘Promise me you’ll memorise the path through it, so if you ever needed to, you could navigate it in the darkness. Please.‘

My friends’ little brothers are all into Scalextric or BMX or Top Trumps — why do I get one who does this and says words like ‘navigate’ and ‘diabolical’? I muss his hair.

‘Okay, l promise to learn your maze off by heart.’ Then Jacko hugs me, which is weird ’cause Jacko’s not a huggy kid. ‘Hey, I’m not going far . . . You’ll understand when you’re older, and—’

By now I shouldn’t be surprised. ‘Yeah.’ ‘Take care of yourself, Holly.’ ‘

Extract B: From “Starter for Ten” by David Nicholls

Mum comes in, then knocks, and I close the case quickly. She looks teary enough as it is, without Dad’s jacket starting her off again. She has, after all, taken the morning off work especially so that she can cry.

‘Nearly done then?’ ‘Nearly.’ ‘D’you want to take a chip pan with you?’ ‘No, I’ll be fine without, Mum.’

‘But what are you going to eat?’ ‘I do eat things other than chips, you know!’ ‘No, you don’t.’ ‘Well, maybe I’ll start. Anyway, there’s always oven-chips.’ I look around to see that she’s almost smiling.

‘You’d better get going, hadn’t you?’ The train’s not for ages yet, but Mum thinks catching a train is a bit like international air travel, and that you should check in four hours before departure. Not that we’ve been on a plane or anything, but still, it’s a wonder that she hasn’t made me go and get jabs.

‘I’ll go in half an hour,’ I say, and there’s silence. Mum says something but can’t quite get the words out, which means it’s probably along the lines of Dad being proud or something, but she decides to save it for later, and turns and goes. I sit on the suitcase to close it, and then lie on my bed and look round my room for the last time — the kind of moment where, if I smoked, I’d smoke.

I can’t believe it’s actually happening. This is independent adulthood, this is what it feels like. Shouldn’t there be some sort of ritual? In certain remote African tribes there’d be some incredible four-day rites of passage ceremony, and village elders smearing my body, but here, rites of passage is all about three new pairs of pants and stuffing your duvet in a bin-liner.

Answer the questions by choosing the letter of the correct answer.

How do the protagonists in both stories react to the prospect of change?

Read the story below then answer the questions that follow.

Extract A: From “The Bone Clocks” by David Mitchell

I count up £13.85 saved in notes and coins. I’ve £80 more in my TSB bank book. It’s not like Vinny’ll charge me rent, and I’ll look for a job next week. Babysitting, working in the market, waitressing: there’s loads of ways to earn a few quid. What about my LPs? I can’t lug the whole collection over to Peacock Street now, and Mam’s quite capable of dumping them at the Oxfam shop out of spite, so I just take Fear of Music, wrapping it carefully in my bomber jacket and putting it into my bag so it won’t get bent. I hide the others under the loose floorboard, just for now, but as I’m putting the carpet back, l get the fright of my life: Jacko’s watching me from the doorway. He’s still in his Thunderbirds pyjamas and slippers.

l tell him, ‘Mister, you just gave me a heart-attack.‘ ‘

You’re going.’ Jacko’s got this not-quite-here voice.

‘Just between us, yes, I am. But not far, don’t worry.‘ ‘

I’ve made you a souvenir, to remember me by.’ Jacko hands me a circle of cardboard – a flattened Dairylea cheese box with a maze drawn on. He’s mad about mazes, is Jacko: it’s all these Dungeons & Dragonsy books him and Sharon read. ‘Take it,’ he tells me. ‘It’s diabolical.‘

‘It doesn’t look all that bad to me.’

I don’t half have a freaky little brother.

‘Right. Well, thanks, Jacko. Look, I’ve got a few things to—’

Jacko holds my wrist.

‘Learn this labyrinth, Holly. Indulge your freaky little brother. Please.‘ That jolts me a bit.

‘Mister, you’re acting all weird.’

‘Promise me you’ll memorise the path through it, so if you ever needed to, you could navigate it in the darkness. Please.‘

My friends’ little brothers are all into Scalextric or BMX or Top Trumps — why do I get one who does this and says words like ‘navigate’ and ‘diabolical’? I muss his hair.

‘Okay, l promise to learn your maze off by heart.’ Then Jacko hugs me, which is weird ’cause Jacko’s not a huggy kid. ‘Hey, I’m not going far . . . You’ll understand when you’re older, and—’

By now I shouldn’t be surprised. ‘Yeah.’ ‘Take care of yourself, Holly.’ ‘

Extract B: From “Starter for Ten” by David Nicholls

Mum comes in, then knocks, and I close the case quickly. She looks teary enough as it is, without Dad’s jacket starting her off again. She has, after all, taken the morning off work especially so that she can cry.

‘Nearly done then?’ ‘Nearly.’ ‘D’you want to take a chip pan with you?’ ‘No, I’ll be fine without, Mum.’

‘But what are you going to eat?’ ‘I do eat things other than chips, you know!’ ‘No, you don’t.’ ‘Well, maybe I’ll start. Anyway, there’s always oven-chips.’ I look around to see that she’s almost smiling.

‘You’d better get going, hadn’t you?’ The train’s not for ages yet, but Mum thinks catching a train is a bit like international air travel, and that you should check in four hours before departure. Not that we’ve been on a plane or anything, but still, it’s a wonder that she hasn’t made me go and get jabs.

‘I’ll go in half an hour,’ I say, and there’s silence. Mum says something but can’t quite get the words out, which means it’s probably along the lines of Dad being proud or something, but she decides to save it for later, and turns and goes. I sit on the suitcase to close it, and then lie on my bed and look round my room for the last time — the kind of moment where, if I smoked, I’d smoke.

I can’t believe it’s actually happening. This is independent adulthood, this is what it feels like. Shouldn’t there be some sort of ritual? In certain remote African tribes there’d be some incredible four-day rites of passage ceremony, and village elders smearing my body, but here, rites of passage is all about three new pairs of pants and stuffing your duvet in a bin-liner.

Answer the questions by choosing the letter of the correct answer.

In what way do the authors use objects to symbolise the transition to adulthood?

Read the story below then answer the questions that follow.

Extract A: From “The Bone Clocks” by David Mitchell

I count up £13.85 saved in notes and coins. I’ve £80 more in my TSB bank book. It’s not like Vinny’ll charge me rent, and I’ll look for a job next week. Babysitting, working in the market, waitressing: there’s loads of ways to earn a few quid. What about my LPs? I can’t lug the whole collection over to Peacock Street now, and Mam’s quite capable of dumping them at the Oxfam shop out of spite, so I just take Fear of Music, wrapping it carefully in my bomber jacket and putting it into my bag so it won’t get bent. I hide the others under the loose floorboard, just for now, but as I’m putting the carpet back, l get the fright of my life: Jacko’s watching me from the doorway. He’s still in his Thunderbirds pyjamas and slippers.

l tell him, ‘Mister, you just gave me a heart-attack.‘ ‘

You’re going.’ Jacko’s got this not-quite-here voice.

‘Just between us, yes, I am. But not far, don’t worry.‘ ‘

I’ve made you a souvenir, to remember me by.’ Jacko hands me a circle of cardboard – a flattened Dairylea cheese box with a maze drawn on. He’s mad about mazes, is Jacko: it’s all these Dungeons & Dragonsy books him and Sharon read. ‘Take it,’ he tells me. ‘It’s diabolical.‘

‘It doesn’t look all that bad to me.’

I don’t half have a freaky little brother.

‘Right. Well, thanks, Jacko. Look, I’ve got a few things to—’

Jacko holds my wrist.

‘Learn this labyrinth, Holly. Indulge your freaky little brother. Please.‘ That jolts me a bit.

‘Mister, you’re acting all weird.’

‘Promise me you’ll memorise the path through it, so if you ever needed to, you could navigate it in the darkness. Please.‘

My friends’ little brothers are all into Scalextric or BMX or Top Trumps — why do I get one who does this and says words like ‘navigate’ and ‘diabolical’? I muss his hair.

‘Okay, l promise to learn your maze off by heart.’ Then Jacko hugs me, which is weird ’cause Jacko’s not a huggy kid. ‘Hey, I’m not going far . . . You’ll understand when you’re older, and—’

By now I shouldn’t be surprised. ‘Yeah.’ ‘Take care of yourself, Holly.’ ‘

Extract B: From “Starter for Ten” by David Nicholls

Mum comes in, then knocks, and I close the case quickly. She looks teary enough as it is, without Dad’s jacket starting her off again. She has, after all, taken the morning off work especially so that she can cry.

‘Nearly done then?’ ‘Nearly.’ ‘D’you want to take a chip pan with you?’ ‘No, I’ll be fine without, Mum.’

‘But what are you going to eat?’ ‘I do eat things other than chips, you know!’ ‘No, you don’t.’ ‘Well, maybe I’ll start. Anyway, there’s always oven-chips.’ I look around to see that she’s almost smiling.

‘You’d better get going, hadn’t you?’ The train’s not for ages yet, but Mum thinks catching a train is a bit like international air travel, and that you should check in four hours before departure. Not that we’ve been on a plane or anything, but still, it’s a wonder that she hasn’t made me go and get jabs.

‘I’ll go in half an hour,’ I say, and there’s silence. Mum says something but can’t quite get the words out, which means it’s probably along the lines of Dad being proud or something, but she decides to save it for later, and turns and goes. I sit on the suitcase to close it, and then lie on my bed and look round my room for the last time — the kind of moment where, if I smoked, I’d smoke.

I can’t believe it’s actually happening. This is independent adulthood, this is what it feels like. Shouldn’t there be some sort of ritual? In certain remote African tribes there’d be some incredible four-day rites of passage ceremony, and village elders smearing my body, but here, rites of passage is all about three new pairs of pants and stuffing your duvet in a bin-liner.

Answer the questions by choosing the letter of the correct answer.

How is the theme of independence explored differently in the two extracts?

Read the story below then answer the questions that follow.

Extract A: From “The Bone Clocks” by David Mitchell

I count up £13.85 saved in notes and coins. I’ve £80 more in my TSB bank book. It’s not like Vinny’ll charge me rent, and I’ll look for a job next week. Babysitting, working in the market, waitressing: there’s loads of ways to earn a few quid. What about my LPs? I can’t lug the whole collection over to Peacock Street now, and Mam’s quite capable of dumping them at the Oxfam shop out of spite, so I just take Fear of Music, wrapping it carefully in my bomber jacket and putting it into my bag so it won’t get bent. I hide the others under the loose floorboard, just for now, but as I’m putting the carpet back, l get the fright of my life: Jacko’s watching me from the doorway. He’s still in his Thunderbirds pyjamas and slippers.

l tell him, ‘Mister, you just gave me a heart-attack.‘ ‘

You’re going.’ Jacko’s got this not-quite-here voice.

‘Just between us, yes, I am. But not far, don’t worry.‘ ‘

I’ve made you a souvenir, to remember me by.’ Jacko hands me a circle of cardboard – a flattened Dairylea cheese box with a maze drawn on. He’s mad about mazes, is Jacko: it’s all these Dungeons & Dragonsy books him and Sharon read. ‘Take it,’ he tells me. ‘It’s diabolical.‘

‘It doesn’t look all that bad to me.’

I don’t half have a freaky little brother.

‘Right. Well, thanks, Jacko. Look, I’ve got a few things to—’

Jacko holds my wrist.

‘Learn this labyrinth, Holly. Indulge your freaky little brother. Please.‘ That jolts me a bit.

‘Mister, you’re acting all weird.’

‘Promise me you’ll memorise the path through it, so if you ever needed to, you could navigate it in the darkness. Please.‘

My friends’ little brothers are all into Scalextric or BMX or Top Trumps — why do I get one who does this and says words like ‘navigate’ and ‘diabolical’? I muss his hair.

‘Okay, l promise to learn your maze off by heart.’ Then Jacko hugs me, which is weird ’cause Jacko’s not a huggy kid. ‘Hey, I’m not going far . . . You’ll understand when you’re older, and—’

By now I shouldn’t be surprised. ‘Yeah.’ ‘Take care of yourself, Holly.’ ‘

Extract B: From “Starter for Ten” by David Nicholls

Mum comes in, then knocks, and I close the case quickly. She looks teary enough as it is, without Dad’s jacket starting her off again. She has, after all, taken the morning off work especially so that she can cry.

‘Nearly done then?’ ‘Nearly.’ ‘D’you want to take a chip pan with you?’ ‘No, I’ll be fine without, Mum.’

‘But what are you going to eat?’ ‘I do eat things other than chips, you know!’ ‘No, you don’t.’ ‘Well, maybe I’ll start. Anyway, there’s always oven-chips.’ I look around to see that she’s almost smiling.

‘You’d better get going, hadn’t you?’ The train’s not for ages yet, but Mum thinks catching a train is a bit like international air travel, and that you should check in four hours before departure. Not that we’ve been on a plane or anything, but still, it’s a wonder that she hasn’t made me go and get jabs.

‘I’ll go in half an hour,’ I say, and there’s silence. Mum says something but can’t quite get the words out, which means it’s probably along the lines of Dad being proud or something, but she decides to save it for later, and turns and goes. I sit on the suitcase to close it, and then lie on my bed and look round my room for the last time — the kind of moment where, if I smoked, I’d smoke.

I can’t believe it’s actually happening. This is independent adulthood, this is what it feels like. Shouldn’t there be some sort of ritual? In certain remote African tribes there’d be some incredible four-day rites of passage ceremony, and village elders smearing my body, but here, rites of passage is all about three new pairs of pants and stuffing your duvet in a bin-liner.

Answer the questions by choosing the letter of the correct answer.

Which extract more profoundly explores the emotional impact of leaving home?

Read the story below then answer the questions that follow.

Extract A: From “The Bone Clocks” by David Mitchell

I count up £13.85 saved in notes and coins. I’ve £80 more in my TSB bank book. It’s not like Vinny’ll charge me rent, and I’ll look for a job next week. Babysitting, working in the market, waitressing: there’s loads of ways to earn a few quid. What about my LPs? I can’t lug the whole collection over to Peacock Street now, and Mam’s quite capable of dumping them at the Oxfam shop out of spite, so I just take Fear of Music, wrapping it carefully in my bomber jacket and putting it into my bag so it won’t get bent. I hide the others under the loose floorboard, just for now, but as I’m putting the carpet back, l get the fright of my life: Jacko’s watching me from the doorway. He’s still in his Thunderbirds pyjamas and slippers.

l tell him, ‘Mister, you just gave me a heart-attack.‘ ‘

You’re going.’ Jacko’s got this not-quite-here voice.

‘Just between us, yes, I am. But not far, don’t worry.‘ ‘

I’ve made you a souvenir, to remember me by.’ Jacko hands me a circle of cardboard – a flattened Dairylea cheese box with a maze drawn on. He’s mad about mazes, is Jacko: it’s all these Dungeons & Dragonsy books him and Sharon read. ‘Take it,’ he tells me. ‘It’s diabolical.‘

‘It doesn’t look all that bad to me.’

I don’t half have a freaky little brother.

‘Right. Well, thanks, Jacko. Look, I’ve got a few things to—’

Jacko holds my wrist.

‘Learn this labyrinth, Holly. Indulge your freaky little brother. Please.‘ That jolts me a bit.

‘Mister, you’re acting all weird.’

‘Promise me you’ll memorise the path through it, so if you ever needed to, you could navigate it in the darkness. Please.‘

My friends’ little brothers are all into Scalextric or BMX or Top Trumps — why do I get one who does this and says words like ‘navigate’ and ‘diabolical’? I muss his hair.

‘Okay, l promise to learn your maze off by heart.’ Then Jacko hugs me, which is weird ’cause Jacko’s not a huggy kid. ‘Hey, I’m not going far . . . You’ll understand when you’re older, and—’

By now I shouldn’t be surprised. ‘Yeah.’ ‘Take care of yourself, Holly.’ ‘

Extract B: From “Starter for Ten” by David Nicholls

Mum comes in, then knocks, and I close the case quickly. She looks teary enough as it is, without Dad’s jacket starting her off again. She has, after all, taken the morning off work especially so that she can cry.

‘Nearly done then?’ ‘Nearly.’ ‘D’you want to take a chip pan with you?’ ‘No, I’ll be fine without, Mum.’

‘But what are you going to eat?’ ‘I do eat things other than chips, you know!’ ‘No, you don’t.’ ‘Well, maybe I’ll start. Anyway, there’s always oven-chips.’ I look around to see that she’s almost smiling.

‘You’d better get going, hadn’t you?’ The train’s not for ages yet, but Mum thinks catching a train is a bit like international air travel, and that you should check in four hours before departure. Not that we’ve been on a plane or anything, but still, it’s a wonder that she hasn’t made me go and get jabs.

‘I’ll go in half an hour,’ I say, and there’s silence. Mum says something but can’t quite get the words out, which means it’s probably along the lines of Dad being proud or something, but she decides to save it for later, and turns and goes. I sit on the suitcase to close it, and then lie on my bed and look round my room for the last time — the kind of moment where, if I smoked, I’d smoke.

I can’t believe it’s actually happening. This is independent adulthood, this is what it feels like. Shouldn’t there be some sort of ritual? In certain remote African tribes there’d be some incredible four-day rites of passage ceremony, and village elders smearing my body, but here, rites of passage is all about three new pairs of pants and stuffing your duvet in a bin-liner.

Answer the questions by choosing the letter of the correct answer.

How do the settings in both extracts contribute to the overarching theme of transition?

Read the poem below then answer the questions that follow.

She Walks in Beauty by Lord Byron

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow’d to that tender light                               5
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair’d the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o’er her face;                                    10
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow, 15
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!

Answer the questions by choosing the letter of the correct answer.

What does Byron imply about beauty in the line “She walks in beauty, like the night”?

Read the poem below then answer the questions that follow.

She Walks in Beauty by Lord Byron

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow’d to that tender light                               5
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair’d the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o’er her face;                                    10
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow, 15
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!

Answer the questions by choosing the letter of the correct answer.

In the phrase “all that’s best of dark and bright,” what does Byron suggest about the nature of beauty?

Read the poem below then answer the questions that follow.

She Walks in Beauty by Lord Byron

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow’d to that tender light                               5
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair’d the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o’er her face;                                    10
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow, 15
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!

Answer the questions by choosing the letter of the correct answer.

How does the line “Thus mellow’d to that tender light” contribute to the poem’s theme?

Read the poem below then answer the questions that follow.

She Walks in Beauty by Lord Byron

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow’d to that tender light                               5
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair’d the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o’er her face;                                    10
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow, 15
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!

Answer the questions by choosing the letter of the correct answer.

What does the phrase “one shade the more, one ray the less” imply about the subject’s beauty?

Read the poem below then answer the questions that follow.

She Walks in Beauty by Lord Byron

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow’d to that tender light                               5
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair’d the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o’er her face;                                    10
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow, 15
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!

Answer the questions by choosing the letter of the correct answer.

How does the speaker’s use of vivid imagery, such as “starry skies” and “tender light,” contribute to the overall tone of the poem?

Read the poem below then answer the questions that follow.

She Walks in Beauty by Lord Byron

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow’d to that tender light                               5
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair’d the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o’er her face;                                    10
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow, 15
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!

Answer the questions by choosing the letter of the correct answer.

The phrase “smiles that win” and “tints that glow” in the poem refers to:

Read the article below then answer the questions that follow.

The Poignancy of Leaving Home

Leaving home marks a pivotal moment in the tapestry of one’s life, an inevitable thread woven into the human experience. 15._______; it encompasses a myriad of emotions, both exhilarating and heart-wrenching. The decision to venture into the unknown, leaving the familiar behind, is akin to stepping into a profound metamorphosis.

16._______. The walls that sheltered laughter and witnessed tears become silent witnesses to the imminent change. As belongings are meticulously packed into suitcases, each item carries memories, a tangible link to the past. 17._______.

The farewell is a symphony of bittersweet emotions. Hugs linger longer, and words, often unspoken, hang in the air. The doorstep, once taken for granted, now symbolises the threshold between what was and what will be. There’s a sense of liberation in the departure, an unspoken acknowledgment of the growth that awaits beyond the confines of home.

The journey itself is a kaleidoscope of emotions.18. _______. The landscapes change, mirroring the internal shifts within the traveller. Each mile covered is a testament to resilience, a silent affirmation that the decision to leave was the right one.

Yet, amidst the newfound independence, there exists a subtle ache for the familiar. 19._______. The realisation that home is not a geographical location, but a feeling settles in, a poignant understanding that accompanies the journey.

In leaving home, one undergoes a metamorphosis—a shedding of the old self to embrace the new. It is a journey that transcends miles, forging pathways into the heart and soul. 20._______ The poignancy of leaving home lies not just in the physical departure but in the profound transformation it instigates—a journey that moulds, challenges, and ultimately defines the essence of one’s being.

Answer the questions above by choosing the letter of the correct answer.

Fill in Gap #15

Read the article below then answer the questions that follow.

The Poignancy of Leaving Home

Leaving home marks a pivotal moment in the tapestry of one’s life, an inevitable thread woven into the human experience. 15._______; it encompasses a myriad of emotions, both exhilarating and heart-wrenching. The decision to venture into the unknown, leaving the familiar behind, is akin to stepping into a profound metamorphosis.

16._______. The walls that sheltered laughter and witnessed tears become silent witnesses to the imminent change. As belongings are meticulously packed into suitcases, each item carries memories, a tangible link to the past. 17._______.

The farewell is a symphony of bittersweet emotions. Hugs linger longer, and words, often unspoken, hang in the air. The doorstep, once taken for granted, now symbolises the threshold between what was and what will be. There’s a sense of liberation in the departure, an unspoken acknowledgment of the growth that awaits beyond the confines of home.

The journey itself is a kaleidoscope of emotions.18. _______. The landscapes change, mirroring the internal shifts within the traveller. Each mile covered is a testament to resilience, a silent affirmation that the decision to leave was the right one.

Yet, amidst the newfound independence, there exists a subtle ache for the familiar. 19._______. The realisation that home is not a geographical location, but a feeling settles in, a poignant understanding that accompanies the journey.

In leaving home, one undergoes a metamorphosis—a shedding of the old self to embrace the new. It is a journey that transcends miles, forging pathways into the heart and soul. 20._______ The poignancy of leaving home lies not just in the physical departure but in the profound transformation it instigates—a journey that moulds, challenges, and ultimately defines the essence of one’s being.

Answer the questions above by choosing the letter of the correct answer.

Fill in Gap #16

Read the article below then answer the questions that follow.

The Poignancy of Leaving Home

Leaving home marks a pivotal moment in the tapestry of one’s life, an inevitable thread woven into the human experience. 15._______; it encompasses a myriad of emotions, both exhilarating and heart-wrenching. The decision to venture into the unknown, leaving the familiar behind, is akin to stepping into a profound metamorphosis.

16._______. The walls that sheltered laughter and witnessed tears become silent witnesses to the imminent change. As belongings are meticulously packed into suitcases, each item carries memories, a tangible link to the past. 17._______.

The farewell is a symphony of bittersweet emotions. Hugs linger longer, and words, often unspoken, hang in the air. The doorstep, once taken for granted, now symbolises the threshold between what was and what will be. There’s a sense of liberation in the departure, an unspoken acknowledgment of the growth that awaits beyond the confines of home.

The journey itself is a kaleidoscope of emotions.18. _______. The landscapes change, mirroring the internal shifts within the traveller. Each mile covered is a testament to resilience, a silent affirmation that the decision to leave was the right one.

Yet, amidst the newfound independence, there exists a subtle ache for the familiar. 19._______. The realisation that home is not a geographical location, but a feeling settles in, a poignant understanding that accompanies the journey.

In leaving home, one undergoes a metamorphosis—a shedding of the old self to embrace the new. It is a journey that transcends miles, forging pathways into the heart and soul. 20._______ The poignancy of leaving home lies not just in the physical departure but in the profound transformation it instigates—a journey that moulds, challenges, and ultimately defines the essence of one’s being.

Answer the questions above by choosing the letter of the correct answer.

Fill in Gap #17

Read the article below then answer the questions that follow.

The Poignancy of Leaving Home

Leaving home marks a pivotal moment in the tapestry of one’s life, an inevitable thread woven into the human experience. 15._______; it encompasses a myriad of emotions, both exhilarating and heart-wrenching. The decision to venture into the unknown, leaving the familiar behind, is akin to stepping into a profound metamorphosis.

16._______. The walls that sheltered laughter and witnessed tears become silent witnesses to the imminent change. As belongings are meticulously packed into suitcases, each item carries memories, a tangible link to the past. 17._______.

The farewell is a symphony of bittersweet emotions. Hugs linger longer, and words, often unspoken, hang in the air. The doorstep, once taken for granted, now symbolises the threshold between what was and what will be. There’s a sense of liberation in the departure, an unspoken acknowledgment of the growth that awaits beyond the confines of home.

The journey itself is a kaleidoscope of emotions.18. _______. The landscapes change, mirroring the internal shifts within the traveller. Each mile covered is a testament to resilience, a silent affirmation that the decision to leave was the right one.

Yet, amidst the newfound independence, there exists a subtle ache for the familiar. 19._______. The realisation that home is not a geographical location, but a feeling settles in, a poignant understanding that accompanies the journey.

In leaving home, one undergoes a metamorphosis—a shedding of the old self to embrace the new. It is a journey that transcends miles, forging pathways into the heart and soul. 20._______ The poignancy of leaving home lies not just in the physical departure but in the profound transformation it instigates—a journey that moulds, challenges, and ultimately defines the essence of one’s being.

Answer the questions above by choosing the letter of the correct answer.

Fill in Gap #18

Read the article below then answer the questions that follow.

The Poignancy of Leaving Home

Leaving home marks a pivotal moment in the tapestry of one’s life, an inevitable thread woven into the human experience. 15._______; it encompasses a myriad of emotions, both exhilarating and heart-wrenching. The decision to venture into the unknown, leaving the familiar behind, is akin to stepping into a profound metamorphosis.

16._______. The walls that sheltered laughter and witnessed tears become silent witnesses to the imminent change. As belongings are meticulously packed into suitcases, each item carries memories, a tangible link to the past. 17._______.

The farewell is a symphony of bittersweet emotions. Hugs linger longer, and words, often unspoken, hang in the air. The doorstep, once taken for granted, now symbolises the threshold between what was and what will be. There’s a sense of liberation in the departure, an unspoken acknowledgment of the growth that awaits beyond the confines of home.

The journey itself is a kaleidoscope of emotions.18. _______. The landscapes change, mirroring the internal shifts within the traveller. Each mile covered is a testament to resilience, a silent affirmation that the decision to leave was the right one.

Yet, amidst the newfound independence, there exists a subtle ache for the familiar. 19._______. The realisation that home is not a geographical location, but a feeling settles in, a poignant understanding that accompanies the journey.

In leaving home, one undergoes a metamorphosis—a shedding of the old self to embrace the new. It is a journey that transcends miles, forging pathways into the heart and soul. 20._______ The poignancy of leaving home lies not just in the physical departure but in the profound transformation it instigates—a journey that moulds, challenges, and ultimately defines the essence of one’s being.

Answer the questions above by choosing the letter of the correct answer.

Fill in Gap #19

Read the article below then answer the questions that follow.

The Poignancy of Leaving Home

Leaving home marks a pivotal moment in the tapestry of one’s life, an inevitable thread woven into the human experience. 15._______; it encompasses a myriad of emotions, both exhilarating and heart-wrenching. The decision to venture into the unknown, leaving the familiar behind, is akin to stepping into a profound metamorphosis.

16._______. The walls that sheltered laughter and witnessed tears become silent witnesses to the imminent change. As belongings are meticulously packed into suitcases, each item carries memories, a tangible link to the past. 17._______.

The farewell is a symphony of bittersweet emotions. Hugs linger longer, and words, often unspoken, hang in the air. The doorstep, once taken for granted, now symbolises the threshold between what was and what will be. There’s a sense of liberation in the departure, an unspoken acknowledgment of the growth that awaits beyond the confines of home.

The journey itself is a kaleidoscope of emotions.18. _______. The landscapes change, mirroring the internal shifts within the traveller. Each mile covered is a testament to resilience, a silent affirmation that the decision to leave was the right one.

Yet, amidst the newfound independence, there exists a subtle ache for the familiar. 19._______. The realisation that home is not a geographical location, but a feeling settles in, a poignant understanding that accompanies the journey.

In leaving home, one undergoes a metamorphosis—a shedding of the old self to embrace the new. It is a journey that transcends miles, forging pathways into the heart and soul. 20._______ The poignancy of leaving home lies not just in the physical departure but in the profound transformation it instigates—a journey that moulds, challenges, and ultimately defines the essence of one’s being.

Answer the questions above by choosing the letter of the correct answer.

Fill in Gap #20

Read the extracts below then answer the questions that follow.

Extract A:
Leaving home is an emotional symphony, a crescendo of goodbyes echoing through familiar corridors. Packed bags stand as silent witnesses to the impending departure, and tearful embraces become a poignant overture to a journey into the unknown. Each step away feels like a heartstring gently tugged, a reminder that in leaving, we are not just abandoning a place but weaving the first threads of our own narrative.

Extract B:
Stepping outside the threshold of home is stepping into a world of uncertainties. The once-familiar streets are replaced by uncharted paths, and the safety net of home transforms into the adventure of the open road. Leaving home is not just a physical departure; it’s a plunge into the unpredictability of life. It’s embracing the thrill of the unfamiliar, the allure of possibilities waiting beyond the horizon.

Extract C:
Even as new horizons beckon, leaving home creates a constant dialogue with the past. Memories become cherished baggage, carried along like a thread connecting the present to a time of innocence and familiarity. Each step away is a step towards growth, yet the echo of home resonates in every heartbeat. The faces, the laughter, and the comforting embrace of familiarity linger as a bittersweet companion on the journey forward.

Extract D:
Leaving home is a bittersweet exodus, a paradox of excitement and melancholy. The walls that sheltered dreams and witnessed growth now recede into the background. It’s a farewell to the mundane yet comforting routine. The rooms once bustling with life now echo with a silent void. Yet, within this departure lies the seed of transformation, the promise of new beginnings. Each footstep away is a testament to resilience, a declaration that leaving is not an end but a prologue to a story yet untold.

Answer the questions below by choosing the letter of the correct answer.

Which extract depicts departing from home as a melodious outpouring of emotions, with silent suitcases observing the scene and emotional goodbyes setting the stage?

Read the extracts below then answer the questions that follow.

Extract A:
Leaving home is an emotional symphony, a crescendo of goodbyes echoing through familiar corridors. Packed bags stand as silent witnesses to the impending departure, and tearful embraces become a poignant overture to a journey into the unknown. Each step away feels like a heartstring gently tugged, a reminder that in leaving, we are not just abandoning a place but weaving the first threads of our own narrative.

Extract B:
Stepping outside the threshold of home is stepping into a world of uncertainties. The once-familiar streets are replaced by uncharted paths, and the safety net of home transforms into the adventure of the open road. Leaving home is not just a physical departure; it’s a plunge into the unpredictability of life. It’s embracing the thrill of the unfamiliar, the allure of possibilities waiting beyond the horizon.

Extract C:
Even as new horizons beckon, leaving home creates a constant dialogue with the past. Memories become cherished baggage, carried along like a thread connecting the present to a time of innocence and familiarity. Each step away is a step towards growth, yet the echo of home resonates in every heartbeat. The faces, the laughter, and the comforting embrace of familiarity linger as a bittersweet companion on the journey forward.

Extract D:
Leaving home is a bittersweet exodus, a paradox of excitement and melancholy. The walls that sheltered dreams and witnessed growth now recede into the background. It’s a farewell to the mundane yet comforting routine. The rooms once bustling with life now echo with a silent void. Yet, within this departure lies the seed of transformation, the promise of new beginnings. Each footstep away is a testament to resilience, a declaration that leaving is not an end but a prologue to a story yet untold.

Answer the questions below by choosing the letter of the correct answer.

Which extract likens the act of departing from home to venturing into realms of uncertainty, transforming the familiar safety of home into a journey filled with adventure and openness?

Read the extracts below then answer the questions that follow.

Extract A:
Leaving home is an emotional symphony, a crescendo of goodbyes echoing through familiar corridors. Packed bags stand as silent witnesses to the impending departure, and tearful embraces become a poignant overture to a journey into the unknown. Each step away feels like a heartstring gently tugged, a reminder that in leaving, we are not just abandoning a place but weaving the first threads of our own narrative.

Extract B:
Stepping outside the threshold of home is stepping into a world of uncertainties. The once-familiar streets are replaced by uncharted paths, and the safety net of home transforms into the adventure of the open road. Leaving home is not just a physical departure; it’s a plunge into the unpredictability of life. It’s embracing the thrill of the unfamiliar, the allure of possibilities waiting beyond the horizon.

Extract C:
Even as new horizons beckon, leaving home creates a constant dialogue with the past. Memories become cherished baggage, carried along like a thread connecting the present to a time of innocence and familiarity. Each step away is a step towards growth, yet the echo of home resonates in every heartbeat. The faces, the laughter, and the comforting embrace of familiarity linger as a bittersweet companion on the journey forward.

Extract D:
Leaving home is a bittersweet exodus, a paradox of excitement and melancholy. The walls that sheltered dreams and witnessed growth now recede into the background. It’s a farewell to the mundane yet comforting routine. The rooms once bustling with life now echo with a silent void. Yet, within this departure lies the seed of transformation, the promise of new beginnings. Each footstep away is a testament to resilience, a declaration that leaving is not an end but a prologue to a story yet untold.

Answer the questions below by choosing the letter of the correct answer.

Which extract illustrates leaving home as a continuous conversation with one’s history, where recollections become treasured luggage linking the present to an era of naivety and comfort?

Read the extracts below then answer the questions that follow.

Extract A:
Leaving home is an emotional symphony, a crescendo of goodbyes echoing through familiar corridors. Packed bags stand as silent witnesses to the impending departure, and tearful embraces become a poignant overture to a journey into the unknown. Each step away feels like a heartstring gently tugged, a reminder that in leaving, we are not just abandoning a place but weaving the first threads of our own narrative.

Extract B:
Stepping outside the threshold of home is stepping into a world of uncertainties. The once-familiar streets are replaced by uncharted paths, and the safety net of home transforms into the adventure of the open road. Leaving home is not just a physical departure; it’s a plunge into the unpredictability of life. It’s embracing the thrill of the unfamiliar, the allure of possibilities waiting beyond the horizon.

Extract C:
Even as new horizons beckon, leaving home creates a constant dialogue with the past. Memories become cherished baggage, carried along like a thread connecting the present to a time of innocence and familiarity. Each step away is a step towards growth, yet the echo of home resonates in every heartbeat. The faces, the laughter, and the comforting embrace of familiarity linger as a bittersweet companion on the journey forward.

Extract D:
Leaving home is a bittersweet exodus, a paradox of excitement and melancholy. The walls that sheltered dreams and witnessed growth now recede into the background. It’s a farewell to the mundane yet comforting routine. The rooms once bustling with life now echo with a silent void. Yet, within this departure lies the seed of transformation, the promise of new beginnings. Each footstep away is a testament to resilience, a declaration that leaving is not an end but a prologue to a story yet untold.

Answer the questions below by choosing the letter of the correct answer.

Which extract describes the act of leaving home as a sweet-and-sour departure, a goodbye to the ordinary yet reassuring routines, and a transition towards the prospect of fresh starts?

Read the extracts below then answer the questions that follow.

Extract A:
Leaving home is an emotional symphony, a crescendo of goodbyes echoing through familiar corridors. Packed bags stand as silent witnesses to the impending departure, and tearful embraces become a poignant overture to a journey into the unknown. Each step away feels like a heartstring gently tugged, a reminder that in leaving, we are not just abandoning a place but weaving the first threads of our own narrative.

Extract B:
Stepping outside the threshold of home is stepping into a world of uncertainties. The once-familiar streets are replaced by uncharted paths, and the safety net of home transforms into the adventure of the open road. Leaving home is not just a physical departure; it’s a plunge into the unpredictability of life. It’s embracing the thrill of the unfamiliar, the allure of possibilities waiting beyond the horizon.

Extract C:
Even as new horizons beckon, leaving home creates a constant dialogue with the past. Memories become cherished baggage, carried along like a thread connecting the present to a time of innocence and familiarity. Each step away is a step towards growth, yet the echo of home resonates in every heartbeat. The faces, the laughter, and the comforting embrace of familiarity linger as a bittersweet companion on the journey forward.

Extract D:
Leaving home is a bittersweet exodus, a paradox of excitement and melancholy. The walls that sheltered dreams and witnessed growth now recede into the background. It’s a farewell to the mundane yet comforting routine. The rooms once bustling with life now echo with a silent void. Yet, within this departure lies the seed of transformation, the promise of new beginnings. Each footstep away is a testament to resilience, a declaration that leaving is not an end but a prologue to a story yet untold.

Answer the questions below by choosing the letter of the correct answer.

Which extract is the act of leaving home associated with emotional goodbyes serving as a moving introduction and a signal of starting to craft one’s own story?

Read the extracts below then answer the questions that follow.

Extract A:
Leaving home is an emotional symphony, a crescendo of goodbyes echoing through familiar corridors. Packed bags stand as silent witnesses to the impending departure, and tearful embraces become a poignant overture to a journey into the unknown. Each step away feels like a heartstring gently tugged, a reminder that in leaving, we are not just abandoning a place but weaving the first threads of our own narrative.

Extract B:
Stepping outside the threshold of home is stepping into a world of uncertainties. The once-familiar streets are replaced by uncharted paths, and the safety net of home transforms into the adventure of the open road. Leaving home is not just a physical departure; it’s a plunge into the unpredictability of life. It’s embracing the thrill of the unfamiliar, the allure of possibilities waiting beyond the horizon.

Extract C:
Even as new horizons beckon, leaving home creates a constant dialogue with the past. Memories become cherished baggage, carried along like a thread connecting the present to a time of innocence and familiarity. Each step away is a step towards growth, yet the echo of home resonates in every heartbeat. The faces, the laughter, and the comforting embrace of familiarity linger as a bittersweet companion on the journey forward.

Extract D:
Leaving home is a bittersweet exodus, a paradox of excitement and melancholy. The walls that sheltered dreams and witnessed growth now recede into the background. It’s a farewell to the mundane yet comforting routine. The rooms once bustling with life now echo with a silent void. Yet, within this departure lies the seed of transformation, the promise of new beginnings. Each footstep away is a testament to resilience, a declaration that leaving is not an end but a prologue to a story yet untold.

Answer the questions below by choosing the letter of the correct answer.

Which extract describes the act of leaving home as diving into the unpredictability of existence and embracing the excitement of the unknown and potential opportunities on the horizon?

Read the extracts below then answer the questions that follow.

Extract A:
Leaving home is an emotional symphony, a crescendo of goodbyes echoing through familiar corridors. Packed bags stand as silent witnesses to the impending departure, and tearful embraces become a poignant overture to a journey into the unknown. Each step away feels like a heartstring gently tugged, a reminder that in leaving, we are not just abandoning a place but weaving the first threads of our own narrative.

Extract B:
Stepping outside the threshold of home is stepping into a world of uncertainties. The once-familiar streets are replaced by uncharted paths, and the safety net of home transforms into the adventure of the open road. Leaving home is not just a physical departure; it’s a plunge into the unpredictability of life. It’s embracing the thrill of the unfamiliar, the allure of possibilities waiting beyond the horizon.

Extract C:
Even as new horizons beckon, leaving home creates a constant dialogue with the past. Memories become cherished baggage, carried along like a thread connecting the present to a time of innocence and familiarity. Each step away is a step towards growth, yet the echo of home resonates in every heartbeat. The faces, the laughter, and the comforting embrace of familiarity linger as a bittersweet companion on the journey forward.

Extract D:
Leaving home is a bittersweet exodus, a paradox of excitement and melancholy. The walls that sheltered dreams and witnessed growth now recede into the background. It’s a farewell to the mundane yet comforting routine. The rooms once bustling with life now echo with a silent void. Yet, within this departure lies the seed of transformation, the promise of new beginnings. Each footstep away is a testament to resilience, a declaration that leaving is not an end but a prologue to a story yet untold.

Answer the questions below by choosing the letter of the correct answer.

Which extract talks about departing from home as a progression towards personal development, with memories serving as a link that connects the current moment to an era of innocence and comfort?

Read the extracts below then answer the questions that follow.

Extract A:
Leaving home is an emotional symphony, a crescendo of goodbyes echoing through familiar corridors. Packed bags stand as silent witnesses to the impending departure, and tearful embraces become a poignant overture to a journey into the unknown. Each step away feels like a heartstring gently tugged, a reminder that in leaving, we are not just abandoning a place but weaving the first threads of our own narrative.

Extract B:
Stepping outside the threshold of home is stepping into a world of uncertainties. The once-familiar streets are replaced by uncharted paths, and the safety net of home transforms into the adventure of the open road. Leaving home is not just a physical departure; it’s a plunge into the unpredictability of life. It’s embracing the thrill of the unfamiliar, the allure of possibilities waiting beyond the horizon.

Extract C:
Even as new horizons beckon, leaving home creates a constant dialogue with the past. Memories become cherished baggage, carried along like a thread connecting the present to a time of innocence and familiarity. Each step away is a step towards growth, yet the echo of home resonates in every heartbeat. The faces, the laughter, and the comforting embrace of familiarity linger as a bittersweet companion on the journey forward.

Extract D:
Leaving home is a bittersweet exodus, a paradox of excitement and melancholy. The walls that sheltered dreams and witnessed growth now recede into the background. It’s a farewell to the mundane yet comforting routine. The rooms once bustling with life now echo with a silent void. Yet, within this departure lies the seed of transformation, the promise of new beginnings. Each footstep away is a testament to resilience, a declaration that leaving is not an end but a prologue to a story yet untold.

Answer the questions below by choosing the letter of the correct answer.

Which extract is departing from home portrayed as a poignant departure, a mix of thrill and sorrow, with once lively rooms now resonating with an absence of sound?

Read the extracts below then answer the questions that follow.

Extract A:
Leaving home is an emotional symphony, a crescendo of goodbyes echoing through familiar corridors. Packed bags stand as silent witnesses to the impending departure, and tearful embraces become a poignant overture to a journey into the unknown. Each step away feels like a heartstring gently tugged, a reminder that in leaving, we are not just abandoning a place but weaving the first threads of our own narrative.

Extract B:
Stepping outside the threshold of home is stepping into a world of uncertainties. The once-familiar streets are replaced by uncharted paths, and the safety net of home transforms into the adventure of the open road. Leaving home is not just a physical departure; it’s a plunge into the unpredictability of life. It’s embracing the thrill of the unfamiliar, the allure of possibilities waiting beyond the horizon.

Extract C:
Even as new horizons beckon, leaving home creates a constant dialogue with the past. Memories become cherished baggage, carried along like a thread connecting the present to a time of innocence and familiarity. Each step away is a step towards growth, yet the echo of home resonates in every heartbeat. The faces, the laughter, and the comforting embrace of familiarity linger as a bittersweet companion on the journey forward.

Extract D:
Leaving home is a bittersweet exodus, a paradox of excitement and melancholy. The walls that sheltered dreams and witnessed growth now recede into the background. It’s a farewell to the mundane yet comforting routine. The rooms once bustling with life now echo with a silent void. Yet, within this departure lies the seed of transformation, the promise of new beginnings. Each footstep away is a testament to resilience, a declaration that leaving is not an end but a prologue to a story yet untold.

Answer the questions below by choosing the letter of the correct answer.

Which extract highlights the idea of leaving as not a conclusion but an introduction to an unwritten tale, with each step forward being a symbol of endurance?

Read the extracts below then answer the questions that follow.

Extract A:
Leaving home is an emotional symphony, a crescendo of goodbyes echoing through familiar corridors. Packed bags stand as silent witnesses to the impending departure, and tearful embraces become a poignant overture to a journey into the unknown. Each step away feels like a heartstring gently tugged, a reminder that in leaving, we are not just abandoning a place but weaving the first threads of our own narrative.

Extract B:
Stepping outside the threshold of home is stepping into a world of uncertainties. The once-familiar streets are replaced by uncharted paths, and the safety net of home transforms into the adventure of the open road. Leaving home is not just a physical departure; it’s a plunge into the unpredictability of life. It’s embracing the thrill of the unfamiliar, the allure of possibilities waiting beyond the horizon.

Extract C:
Even as new horizons beckon, leaving home creates a constant dialogue with the past. Memories become cherished baggage, carried along like a thread connecting the present to a time of innocence and familiarity. Each step away is a step towards growth, yet the echo of home resonates in every heartbeat. The faces, the laughter, and the comforting embrace of familiarity linger as a bittersweet companion on the journey forward.

Extract D:
Leaving home is a bittersweet exodus, a paradox of excitement and melancholy. The walls that sheltered dreams and witnessed growth now recede into the background. It’s a farewell to the mundane yet comforting routine. The rooms once bustling with life now echo with a silent void. Yet, within this departure lies the seed of transformation, the promise of new beginnings. Each footstep away is a testament to resilience, a declaration that leaving is not an end but a prologue to a story yet untold.

Answer the questions below by choosing the letter of the correct answer.

Which extract notes the act of leaving home as a goodbye to the everyday yet reassuring routines and a step into the possibility of new adventures and beginnings?