Question Description
Directions:Read the passages and choose the best answer to each question.PassagePROSE FICTION: Silence: A Story of Courage and HealingSome say that silence is a great healer. If you’dsaid that to me two years ago, I wouldn’t have agreed.“Silence,” I would have argued, “is anything but heal-ing. There is nothing therapeutic about keeping your(5) feelings inside, never talking about what’s going on inyour life.” I now believe that silence is the reward youget from great healing, in addition to being the healeritself. But I didn’t know that then.I had never understood the value of silence.(10) I didn’t have to. My family was loud and happy. Andwhy not? Nothing serious ever went wrong—not thatwe knew about. Sure, my siblings and I always foughtnoisily until our mom yelled at us to stop. Then we’dshout and complain about injustice, but always, even-(15) tually, hug and make-up. Within the parameters of myinnocent world, I knew silence as a lack of something:a lack of noise, a lack of discussion, a lack of feel-ing, a lack of love. Maybe I was even a little afraidof the emptiness it created—the aural darkness where(20) forgiveness never happened. I thought I knew ... I wasvery wrong.Jaime entered my life without much fanfare abouttwo years ago. I’ll never forget the day I met him.My university required a community service stint to(25) graduate, and I wanted to get it out of the way. I’dheard that the local YMCA was a good resource, and Iliked working with little kids. I thought maybe they’dlet me teach swimming. So, on a cool October day inthe fall of my sophomore year, I made my way to the(30) YMCA looking for easy credits.I didn’t have a car at school until my junior yearof college, so if I needed to go anywhere, I wouldgenerally catch a ride with a friend or walk. On thatparticular day, no friend was available and the ten-mile(35) walk was far beyond my dedication to public service.Consequently, I was at the mercy of public transporta-tion. Thankfully, I’d heard the local bus system waspretty reliable. With the help of the CITA bus linemap, I climbed onto Bus Route 3, paid my fifty cents,(40) and scanned for a seat. Buses often have their ownunique demographic: each crowd is unlike any other.On this bus, most everyone was either asleep or totallyoblivious. Except for one kid. He wasn’t all thatbig—maybe thirteen years old—and he was seated by(45) himself, farther apart from the other riders than seemedpossible in such a crowded space. Unlike the others, hiseyes were alert. And they were glued on me.Normally, I ignore people with such awkwardhabits. But for some reason, I couldn’t stop staring(50) back. Odder still, instead of avoiding him, I foundmyself passing an empty seat to sit down on the benchbeside him. Once I did, he turned to look out the win-dow. That’s when the strangeness of it all hit me, andI started to feel a little awkward. I wanted to get back(55) in control of the situation. Trying to be subtle, I lookedhim over. I noticed some scarring on his hands, anda small gash on his cheek. Suddenly, he turned andlooked me in the eye. Expecting him to say something,I just waited, watching. He said nothing. After about(60) fifteen seconds, I couldn’t take the silence anymore.“Hi,” I said, trying not to appear as nervous as Ifelt.No response. He just kept staring.“I’m Katie.” I added a smile. Again, I received no(65) response. I gave it one more try.“I’ve never used the bus system before. It seemspretty reliable. Do you use it a lot?” Silence. My cheeryvoice sounded out of place. Other people were startingto stare at me. This time I gave up and turned my(70) head toward the front of the bus, trying to ignore thethirteen-year-old staring me down... again. I openedmy cell phone to check the time and saw that only twominutes had passed. This was going to be the longestbus ride ever.(75) Then a thin voice cut through the silence.“I’m Jaime.”My heart skipped a beat. Could it be that mysilence was the catalyst for this small victory? Byallowing Jaime the room that silence allows to make(80) his own decision about talking to me, I had made a con-nection. Suddenly, I knew that my long held opinionof silence was forever changed.Q.Which of the following statements about the people on the bus is best supported by the passage?a)The bus is filled with fascinating people, most of whom you see on every bus ride.b)People who ride the bus are always quiet.c)You might never see the same people on any given bus ride.d)People who take the bus are dull and uninteresting.Correct answer is option 'C'. Can you explain this answer? for ACT 2025 is part of ACT preparation. The Question and answers have been prepared according to the ACT exam syllabus. Information about Directions:Read the passages and choose the best answer to each question.PassagePROSE FICTION: Silence: A Story of Courage and HealingSome say that silence is a great healer. If you’dsaid that to me two years ago, I wouldn’t have agreed.“Silence,” I would have argued, “is anything but heal-ing. There is nothing therapeutic about keeping your(5) feelings inside, never talking about what’s going on inyour life.” I now believe that silence is the reward youget from great healing, in addition to being the healeritself. But I didn’t know that then.I had never understood the value of silence.(10) I didn’t have to. My family was loud and happy. Andwhy not? Nothing serious ever went wrong—not thatwe knew about. Sure, my siblings and I always foughtnoisily until our mom yelled at us to stop. Then we’dshout and complain about injustice, but always, even-(15) tually, hug and make-up. Within the parameters of myinnocent world, I knew silence as a lack of something:a lack of noise, a lack of discussion, a lack of feel-ing, a lack of love. Maybe I was even a little afraidof the emptiness it created—the aural darkness where(20) forgiveness never happened. I thought I knew ... I wasvery wrong.Jaime entered my life without much fanfare abouttwo years ago. I’ll never forget the day I met him.My university required a community service stint to(25) graduate, and I wanted to get it out of the way. I’dheard that the local YMCA was a good resource, and Iliked working with little kids. I thought maybe they’dlet me teach swimming. So, on a cool October day inthe fall of my sophomore year, I made my way to the(30) YMCA looking for easy credits.I didn’t have a car at school until my junior yearof college, so if I needed to go anywhere, I wouldgenerally catch a ride with a friend or walk. On thatparticular day, no friend was available and the ten-mile(35) walk was far beyond my dedication to public service.Consequently, I was at the mercy of public transporta-tion. Thankfully, I’d heard the local bus system waspretty reliable. With the help of the CITA bus linemap, I climbed onto Bus Route 3, paid my fifty cents,(40) and scanned for a seat. Buses often have their ownunique demographic: each crowd is unlike any other.On this bus, most everyone was either asleep or totallyoblivious. Except for one kid. He wasn’t all thatbig—maybe thirteen years old—and he was seated by(45) himself, farther apart from the other riders than seemedpossible in such a crowded space. Unlike the others, hiseyes were alert. And they were glued on me.Normally, I ignore people with such awkwardhabits. But for some reason, I couldn’t stop staring(50) back. Odder still, instead of avoiding him, I foundmyself passing an empty seat to sit down on the benchbeside him. Once I did, he turned to look out the win-dow. That’s when the strangeness of it all hit me, andI started to feel a little awkward. I wanted to get back(55) in control of the situation. Trying to be subtle, I lookedhim over. I noticed some scarring on his hands, anda small gash on his cheek. Suddenly, he turned andlooked me in the eye. Expecting him to say something,I just waited, watching. He said nothing. After about(60) fifteen seconds, I couldn’t take the silence anymore.“Hi,” I said, trying not to appear as nervous as Ifelt.No response. He just kept staring.“I’m Katie.” I added a smile. Again, I received no(65) response. I gave it one more try.“I’ve never used the bus system before. It seemspretty reliable. Do you use it a lot?” Silence. My cheeryvoice sounded out of place. Other people were startingto stare at me. This time I gave up and turned my(70) head toward the front of the bus, trying to ignore thethirteen-year-old staring me down... again. I openedmy cell phone to check the time and saw that only twominutes had passed. This was going to be the longestbus ride ever.(75) Then a thin voice cut through the silence.“I’m Jaime.”My heart skipped a beat. Could it be that mysilence was the catalyst for this small victory? Byallowing Jaime the room that silence allows to make(80) his own decision about talking to me, I had made a con-nection. Suddenly, I knew that my long held opinionof silence was forever changed.Q.Which of the following statements about the people on the bus is best supported by the passage?a)The bus is filled with fascinating people, most of whom you see on every bus ride.b)People who ride the bus are always quiet.c)You might never see the same people on any given bus ride.d)People who take the bus are dull and uninteresting.Correct answer is option 'C'. Can you explain this answer? covers all topics & solutions for ACT 2025 Exam. Find important definitions, questions, meanings, examples, exercises and tests below for Directions:Read the passages and choose the best answer to each question.PassagePROSE FICTION: Silence: A Story of Courage and HealingSome say that silence is a great healer. If you’dsaid that to me two years ago, I wouldn’t have agreed.“Silence,” I would have argued, “is anything but heal-ing. There is nothing therapeutic about keeping your(5) feelings inside, never talking about what’s going on inyour life.” I now believe that silence is the reward youget from great healing, in addition to being the healeritself. But I didn’t know that then.I had never understood the value of silence.(10) I didn’t have to. My family was loud and happy. Andwhy not? Nothing serious ever went wrong—not thatwe knew about. Sure, my siblings and I always foughtnoisily until our mom yelled at us to stop. Then we’dshout and complain about injustice, but always, even-(15) tually, hug and make-up. Within the parameters of myinnocent world, I knew silence as a lack of something:a lack of noise, a lack of discussion, a lack of feel-ing, a lack of love. Maybe I was even a little afraidof the emptiness it created—the aural darkness where(20) forgiveness never happened. I thought I knew ... I wasvery wrong.Jaime entered my life without much fanfare abouttwo years ago. I’ll never forget the day I met him.My university required a community service stint to(25) graduate, and I wanted to get it out of the way. I’dheard that the local YMCA was a good resource, and Iliked working with little kids. I thought maybe they’dlet me teach swimming. So, on a cool October day inthe fall of my sophomore year, I made my way to the(30) YMCA looking for easy credits.I didn’t have a car at school until my junior yearof college, so if I needed to go anywhere, I wouldgenerally catch a ride with a friend or walk. On thatparticular day, no friend was available and the ten-mile(35) walk was far beyond my dedication to public service.Consequently, I was at the mercy of public transporta-tion. Thankfully, I’d heard the local bus system waspretty reliable. With the help of the CITA bus linemap, I climbed onto Bus Route 3, paid my fifty cents,(40) and scanned for a seat. Buses often have their ownunique demographic: each crowd is unlike any other.On this bus, most everyone was either asleep or totallyoblivious. Except for one kid. He wasn’t all thatbig—maybe thirteen years old—and he was seated by(45) himself, farther apart from the other riders than seemedpossible in such a crowded space. Unlike the others, hiseyes were alert. And they were glued on me.Normally, I ignore people with such awkwardhabits. But for some reason, I couldn’t stop staring(50) back. Odder still, instead of avoiding him, I foundmyself passing an empty seat to sit down on the benchbeside him. Once I did, he turned to look out the win-dow. That’s when the strangeness of it all hit me, andI started to feel a little awkward. I wanted to get back(55) in control of the situation. Trying to be subtle, I lookedhim over. I noticed some scarring on his hands, anda small gash on his cheek. Suddenly, he turned andlooked me in the eye. Expecting him to say something,I just waited, watching. He said nothing. After about(60) fifteen seconds, I couldn’t take the silence anymore.“Hi,” I said, trying not to appear as nervous as Ifelt.No response. He just kept staring.“I’m Katie.” I added a smile. Again, I received no(65) response. I gave it one more try.“I’ve never used the bus system before. It seemspretty reliable. Do you use it a lot?” Silence. My cheeryvoice sounded out of place. Other people were startingto stare at me. This time I gave up and turned my(70) head toward the front of the bus, trying to ignore thethirteen-year-old staring me down... again. I openedmy cell phone to check the time and saw that only twominutes had passed. This was going to be the longestbus ride ever.(75) Then a thin voice cut through the silence.“I’m Jaime.”My heart skipped a beat. Could it be that mysilence was the catalyst for this small victory? Byallowing Jaime the room that silence allows to make(80) his own decision about talking to me, I had made a con-nection. Suddenly, I knew that my long held opinionof silence was forever changed.Q.Which of the following statements about the people on the bus is best supported by the passage?a)The bus is filled with fascinating people, most of whom you see on every bus ride.b)People who ride the bus are always quiet.c)You might never see the same people on any given bus ride.d)People who take the bus are dull and uninteresting.Correct answer is option 'C'. Can you explain this answer?.

Solutions for Directions:Read the passages and choose the best answer to each question.PassagePROSE FICTION: Silence: A Story of Courage and HealingSome say that silence is a great healer. If you’dsaid that to me two years ago, I wouldn’t have agreed.“Silence,” I would have argued, “is anything but heal-ing. There is nothing therapeutic about keeping your(5) feelings inside, never talking about what’s going on inyour life.” I now believe that silence is the reward youget from great healing, in addition to being the healeritself. But I didn’t know that then.I had never understood the value of silence.(10) I didn’t have to. My family was loud and happy. Andwhy not? Nothing serious ever went wrong—not thatwe knew about. Sure, my siblings and I always foughtnoisily until our mom yelled at us to stop. Then we’dshout and complain about injustice, but always, even-(15) tually, hug and make-up. Within the parameters of myinnocent world, I knew silence as a lack of something:a lack of noise, a lack of discussion, a lack of feel-ing, a lack of love. Maybe I was even a little afraidof the emptiness it created—the aural darkness where(20) forgiveness never happened. I thought I knew ... I wasvery wrong.Jaime entered my life without much fanfare abouttwo years ago. I’ll never forget the day I met him.My university required a community service stint to(25) graduate, and I wanted to get it out of the way. I’dheard that the local YMCA was a good resource, and Iliked working with little kids. I thought maybe they’dlet me teach swimming. So, on a cool October day inthe fall of my sophomore year, I made my way to the(30) YMCA looking for easy credits.I didn’t have a car at school until my junior yearof college, so if I needed to go anywhere, I wouldgenerally catch a ride with a friend or walk. On thatparticular day, no friend was available and the ten-mile(35) walk was far beyond my dedication to public service.Consequently, I was at the mercy of public transporta-tion. Thankfully, I’d heard the local bus system waspretty reliable. With the help of the CITA bus linemap, I climbed onto Bus Route 3, paid my fifty cents,(40) and scanned for a seat. Buses often have their ownunique demographic: each crowd is unlike any other.On this bus, most everyone was either asleep or totallyoblivious. Except for one kid. He wasn’t all thatbig—maybe thirteen years old—and he was seated by(45) himself, farther apart from the other riders than seemedpossible in such a crowded space. Unlike the others, hiseyes were alert. And they were glued on me.Normally, I ignore people with such awkwardhabits. But for some reason, I couldn’t stop staring(50) back. Odder still, instead of avoiding him, I foundmyself passing an empty seat to sit down on the benchbeside him. Once I did, he turned to look out the win-dow. That’s when the strangeness of it all hit me, andI started to feel a little awkward. I wanted to get back(55) in control of the situation. Trying to be subtle, I lookedhim over. I noticed some scarring on his hands, anda small gash on his cheek. Suddenly, he turned andlooked me in the eye. Expecting him to say something,I just waited, watching. He said nothing. After about(60) fifteen seconds, I couldn’t take the silence anymore.“Hi,” I said, trying not to appear as nervous as Ifelt.No response. He just kept staring.“I’m Katie.” I added a smile. Again, I received no(65) response. I gave it one more try.“I’ve never used the bus system before. It seemspretty reliable. Do you use it a lot?” Silence. My cheeryvoice sounded out of place. Other people were startingto stare at me. This time I gave up and turned my(70) head toward the front of the bus, trying to ignore thethirteen-year-old staring me down... again. I openedmy cell phone to check the time and saw that only twominutes had passed. This was going to be the longestbus ride ever.(75) Then a thin voice cut through the silence.“I’m Jaime.”My heart skipped a beat. Could it be that mysilence was the catalyst for this small victory? Byallowing Jaime the room that silence allows to make(80) his own decision about talking to me, I had made a con-nection. Suddenly, I knew that my long held opinionof silence was forever changed.Q.Which of the following statements about the people on the bus is best supported by the passage?a)The bus is filled with fascinating people, most of whom you see on every bus ride.b)People who ride the bus are always quiet.c)You might never see the same people on any given bus ride.d)People who take the bus are dull and uninteresting.Correct answer is option 'C'. Can you explain this answer? in English & in Hindi are available as part of our courses for ACT. Download more important topics, notes, lectures and mock test series for ACT Exam by signing up for free.

Here you can find the meaning of Directions:Read the passages and choose the best answer to each question.PassagePROSE FICTION: Silence: A Story of Courage and HealingSome say that silence is a great healer. If you’dsaid that to me two years ago, I wouldn’t have agreed.“Silence,” I would have argued, “is anything but heal-ing. There is nothing therapeutic about keeping your(5) feelings inside, never talking about what’s going on inyour life.” I now believe that silence is the reward youget from great healing, in addition to being the healeritself. But I didn’t know that then.I had never understood the value of silence.(10) I didn’t have to. My family was loud and happy. Andwhy not? Nothing serious ever went wrong—not thatwe knew about. Sure, my siblings and I always foughtnoisily until our mom yelled at us to stop. Then we’dshout and complain about injustice, but always, even-(15) tually, hug and make-up. Within the parameters of myinnocent world, I knew silence as a lack of something:a lack of noise, a lack of discussion, a lack of feel-ing, a lack of love. Maybe I was even a little afraidof the emptiness it created—the aural darkness where(20) forgiveness never happened. I thought I knew ... I wasvery wrong.Jaime entered my life without much fanfare abouttwo years ago. I’ll never forget the day I met him.My university required a community service stint to(25) graduate, and I wanted to get it out of the way. I’dheard that the local YMCA was a good resource, and Iliked working with little kids. I thought maybe they’dlet me teach swimming. So, on a cool October day inthe fall of my sophomore year, I made my way to the(30) YMCA looking for easy credits.I didn’t have a car at school until my junior yearof college, so if I needed to go anywhere, I wouldgenerally catch a ride with a friend or walk. On thatparticular day, no friend was available and the ten-mile(35) walk was far beyond my dedication to public service.Consequently, I was at the mercy of public transporta-tion. Thankfully, I’d heard the local bus system waspretty reliable. With the help of the CITA bus linemap, I climbed onto Bus Route 3, paid my fifty cents,(40) and scanned for a seat. Buses often have their ownunique demographic: each crowd is unlike any other.On this bus, most everyone was either asleep or totallyoblivious. Except for one kid. He wasn’t all thatbig—maybe thirteen years old—and he was seated by(45) himself, farther apart from the other riders than seemedpossible in such a crowded space. Unlike the others, hiseyes were alert. And they were glued on me.Normally, I ignore people with such awkwardhabits. But for some reason, I couldn’t stop staring(50) back. Odder still, instead of avoiding him, I foundmyself passing an empty seat to sit down on the benchbeside him. Once I did, he turned to look out the win-dow. That’s when the strangeness of it all hit me, andI started to feel a little awkward. I wanted to get back(55) in control of the situation. Trying to be subtle, I lookedhim over. I noticed some scarring on his hands, anda small gash on his cheek. Suddenly, he turned andlooked me in the eye. Expecting him to say something,I just waited, watching. He said nothing. After about(60) fifteen seconds, I couldn’t take the silence anymore.“Hi,” I said, trying not to appear as nervous as Ifelt.No response. He just kept staring.“I’m Katie.” I added a smile. Again, I received no(65) response. I gave it one more try.“I’ve never used the bus system before. It seemspretty reliable. Do you use it a lot?” Silence. My cheeryvoice sounded out of place. Other people were startingto stare at me. This time I gave up and turned my(70) head toward the front of the bus, trying to ignore thethirteen-year-old staring me down... again. I openedmy cell phone to check the time and saw that only twominutes had passed. This was going to be the longestbus ride ever.(75) Then a thin voice cut through the silence.“I’m Jaime.”My heart skipped a beat. Could it be that mysilence was the catalyst for this small victory? Byallowing Jaime the room that silence allows to make(80) his own decision about talking to me, I had made a con-nection. Suddenly, I knew that my long held opinionof silence was forever changed.Q.Which of the following statements about the people on the bus is best supported by the passage?a)The bus is filled with fascinating people, most of whom you see on every bus ride.b)People who ride the bus are always quiet.c)You might never see the same people on any given bus ride.d)People who take the bus are dull and uninteresting.Correct answer is option 'C'. Can you explain this answer? defined & explained in the simplest way possible. Besides giving the explanation of Directions:Read the passages and choose the best answer to each question.PassagePROSE FICTION: Silence: A Story of Courage and HealingSome say that silence is a great healer. If you’dsaid that to me two years ago, I wouldn’t have agreed.“Silence,” I would have argued, “is anything but heal-ing. There is nothing therapeutic about keeping your(5) feelings inside, never talking about what’s going on inyour life.” I now believe that silence is the reward youget from great healing, in addition to being the healeritself. But I didn’t know that then.I had never understood the value of silence.(10) I didn’t have to. My family was loud and happy. Andwhy not? Nothing serious ever went wrong—not thatwe knew about. Sure, my siblings and I always foughtnoisily until our mom yelled at us to stop. Then we’dshout and complain about injustice, but always, even-(15) tually, hug and make-up. Within the parameters of myinnocent world, I knew silence as a lack of something:a lack of noise, a lack of discussion, a lack of feel-ing, a lack of love. Maybe I was even a little afraidof the emptiness it created—the aural darkness where(20) forgiveness never happened. I thought I knew ... I wasvery wrong.Jaime entered my life without much fanfare abouttwo years ago. I’ll never forget the day I met him.My university required a community service stint to(25) graduate, and I wanted to get it out of the way. I’dheard that the local YMCA was a good resource, and Iliked working with little kids. I thought maybe they’dlet me teach swimming. So, on a cool October day inthe fall of my sophomore year, I made my way to the(30) YMCA looking for easy credits.I didn’t have a car at school until my junior yearof college, so if I needed to go anywhere, I wouldgenerally catch a ride with a friend or walk. On thatparticular day, no friend was available and the ten-mile(35) walk was far beyond my dedication to public service.Consequently, I was at the mercy of public transporta-tion. Thankfully, I’d heard the local bus system waspretty reliable. With the help of the CITA bus linemap, I climbed onto Bus Route 3, paid my fifty cents,(40) and scanned for a seat. Buses often have their ownunique demographic: each crowd is unlike any other.On this bus, most everyone was either asleep or totallyoblivious. Except for one kid. He wasn’t all thatbig—maybe thirteen years old—and he was seated by(45) himself, farther apart from the other riders than seemedpossible in such a crowded space. Unlike the others, hiseyes were alert. And they were glued on me.Normally, I ignore people with such awkwardhabits. But for some reason, I couldn’t stop staring(50) back. Odder still, instead of avoiding him, I foundmyself passing an empty seat to sit down on the benchbeside him. Once I did, he turned to look out the win-dow. That’s when the strangeness of it all hit me, andI started to feel a little awkward. I wanted to get back(55) in control of the situation. Trying to be subtle, I lookedhim over. I noticed some scarring on his hands, anda small gash on his cheek. Suddenly, he turned andlooked me in the eye. Expecting him to say something,I just waited, watching. He said nothing. After about(60) fifteen seconds, I couldn’t take the silence anymore.“Hi,” I said, trying not to appear as nervous as Ifelt.No response. He just kept staring.“I’m Katie.” I added a smile. Again, I received no(65) response. I gave it one more try.“I’ve never used the bus system before. It seemspretty reliable. Do you use it a lot?” Silence. My cheeryvoice sounded out of place. Other people were startingto stare at me. This time I gave up and turned my(70) head toward the front of the bus, trying to ignore thethirteen-year-old staring me down... again. I openedmy cell phone to check the time and saw that only twominutes had passed. This was going to be the longestbus ride ever.(75) Then a thin voice cut through the silence.“I’m Jaime.”My heart skipped a beat. Could it be that mysilence was the catalyst for this small victory? Byallowing Jaime the room that silence allows to make(80) his own decision about talking to me, I had made a con-nection. Suddenly, I knew that my long held opinionof silence was forever changed.Q.Which of the following statements about the people on the bus is best supported by the passage?a)The bus is filled with fascinating people, most of whom you see on every bus ride.b)People who ride the bus are always quiet.c)You might never see the same people on any given bus ride.d)People who take the bus are dull and uninteresting.Correct answer is option 'C'. Can you explain this answer?, a detailed solution for Directions:Read the passages and choose the best answer to each question.PassagePROSE FICTION: Silence: A Story of Courage and HealingSome say that silence is a great healer. If you’dsaid that to me two years ago, I wouldn’t have agreed.“Silence,” I would have argued, “is anything but heal-ing. There is nothing therapeutic about keeping your(5) feelings inside, never talking about what’s going on inyour life.” I now believe that silence is the reward youget from great healing, in addition to being the healeritself. But I didn’t know that then.I had never understood the value of silence.(10) I didn’t have to. My family was loud and happy. Andwhy not? Nothing serious ever went wrong—not thatwe knew about. Sure, my siblings and I always foughtnoisily until our mom yelled at us to stop. Then we’dshout and complain about injustice, but always, even-(15) tually, hug and make-up. Within the parameters of myinnocent world, I knew silence as a lack of something:a lack of noise, a lack of discussion, a lack of feel-ing, a lack of love. Maybe I was even a little afraidof the emptiness it created—the aural darkness where(20) forgiveness never happened. I thought I knew ... I wasvery wrong.Jaime entered my life without much fanfare abouttwo years ago. I’ll never forget the day I met him.My university required a community service stint to(25) graduate, and I wanted to get it out of the way. I’dheard that the local YMCA was a good resource, and Iliked working with little kids. I thought maybe they’dlet me teach swimming. So, on a cool October day inthe fall of my sophomore year, I made my way to the(30) YMCA looking for easy credits.I didn’t have a car at school until my junior yearof college, so if I needed to go anywhere, I wouldgenerally catch a ride with a friend or walk. On thatparticular day, no friend was available and the ten-mile(35) walk was far beyond my dedication to public service.Consequently, I was at the mercy of public transporta-tion. Thankfully, I’d heard the local bus system waspretty reliable. With the help of the CITA bus linemap, I climbed onto Bus Route 3, paid my fifty cents,(40) and scanned for a seat. Buses often have their ownunique demographic: each crowd is unlike any other.On this bus, most everyone was either asleep or totallyoblivious. Except for one kid. He wasn’t all thatbig—maybe thirteen years old—and he was seated by(45) himself, farther apart from the other riders than seemedpossible in such a crowded space. Unlike the others, hiseyes were alert. And they were glued on me.Normally, I ignore people with such awkwardhabits. But for some reason, I couldn’t stop staring(50) back. Odder still, instead of avoiding him, I foundmyself passing an empty seat to sit down on the benchbeside him. Once I did, he turned to look out the win-dow. That’s when the strangeness of it all hit me, andI started to feel a little awkward. I wanted to get back(55) in control of the situation. Trying to be subtle, I lookedhim over. I noticed some scarring on his hands, anda small gash on his cheek. Suddenly, he turned andlooked me in the eye. Expecting him to say something,I just waited, watching. He said nothing. After about(60) fifteen seconds, I couldn’t take the silence anymore.“Hi,” I said, trying not to appear as nervous as Ifelt.No response. He just kept staring.“I’m Katie.” I added a smile. Again, I received no(65) response. I gave it one more try.“I’ve never used the bus system before. It seemspretty reliable. Do you use it a lot?” Silence. My cheeryvoice sounded out of place. Other people were startingto stare at me. This time I gave up and turned my(70) head toward the front of the bus, trying to ignore thethirteen-year-old staring me down... again. I openedmy cell phone to check the time and saw that only twominutes had passed. This was going to be the longestbus ride ever.(75) Then a thin voice cut through the silence.“I’m Jaime.”My heart skipped a beat. Could it be that mysilence was the catalyst for this small victory? Byallowing Jaime the room that silence allows to make(80) his own decision about talking to me, I had made a con-nection. Suddenly, I knew that my long held opinionof silence was forever changed.Q.Which of the following statements about the people on the bus is best supported by the passage?a)The bus is filled with fascinating people, most of whom you see on every bus ride.b)People who ride the bus are always quiet.c)You might never see the same people on any given bus ride.d)People who take the bus are dull and uninteresting.Correct answer is option 'C'. Can you explain this answer? has been provided alongside types of Directions:Read the passages and choose the best answer to each question.PassagePROSE FICTION: Silence: A Story of Courage and HealingSome say that silence is a great healer. If you’dsaid that to me two years ago, I wouldn’t have agreed.“Silence,” I would have argued, “is anything but heal-ing. There is nothing therapeutic about keeping your(5) feelings inside, never talking about what’s going on inyour life.” I now believe that silence is the reward youget from great healing, in addition to being the healeritself. But I didn’t know that then.I had never understood the value of silence.(10) I didn’t have to. My family was loud and happy. Andwhy not? Nothing serious ever went wrong—not thatwe knew about. Sure, my siblings and I always foughtnoisily until our mom yelled at us to stop. Then we’dshout and complain about injustice, but always, even-(15) tually, hug and make-up. Within the parameters of myinnocent world, I knew silence as a lack of something:a lack of noise, a lack of discussion, a lack of feel-ing, a lack of love. Maybe I was even a little afraidof the emptiness it created—the aural darkness where(20) forgiveness never happened. I thought I knew ... I wasvery wrong.Jaime entered my life without much fanfare abouttwo years ago. I’ll never forget the day I met him.My university required a community service stint to(25) graduate, and I wanted to get it out of the way. I’dheard that the local YMCA was a good resource, and Iliked working with little kids. I thought maybe they’dlet me teach swimming. So, on a cool October day inthe fall of my sophomore year, I made my way to the(30) YMCA looking for easy credits.I didn’t have a car at school until my junior yearof college, so if I needed to go anywhere, I wouldgenerally catch a ride with a friend or walk. On thatparticular day, no friend was available and the ten-mile(35) walk was far beyond my dedication to public service.Consequently, I was at the mercy of public transporta-tion. Thankfully, I’d heard the local bus system waspretty reliable. With the help of the CITA bus linemap, I climbed onto Bus Route 3, paid my fifty cents,(40) and scanned for a seat. Buses often have their ownunique demographic: each crowd is unlike any other.On this bus, most everyone was either asleep or totallyoblivious. Except for one kid. He wasn’t all thatbig—maybe thirteen years old—and he was seated by(45) himself, farther apart from the other riders than seemedpossible in such a crowded space. Unlike the others, hiseyes were alert. And they were glued on me.Normally, I ignore people with such awkwardhabits. But for some reason, I couldn’t stop staring(50) back. Odder still, instead of avoiding him, I foundmyself passing an empty seat to sit down on the benchbeside him. Once I did, he turned to look out the win-dow. That’s when the strangeness of it all hit me, andI started to feel a little awkward. I wanted to get back(55) in control of the situation. Trying to be subtle, I lookedhim over. I noticed some scarring on his hands, anda small gash on his cheek. Suddenly, he turned andlooked me in the eye. Expecting him to say something,I just waited, watching. He said nothing. After about(60) fifteen seconds, I couldn’t take the silence anymore.“Hi,” I said, trying not to appear as nervous as Ifelt.No response. He just kept staring.“I’m Katie.” I added a smile. Again, I received no(65) response. I gave it one more try.“I’ve never used the bus system before. It seemspretty reliable. Do you use it a lot?” Silence. My cheeryvoice sounded out of place. Other people were startingto stare at me. This time I gave up and turned my(70) head toward the front of the bus, trying to ignore thethirteen-year-old staring me down... again. I openedmy cell phone to check the time and saw that only twominutes had passed. This was going to be the longestbus ride ever.(75) Then a thin voice cut through the silence.“I’m Jaime.”My heart skipped a beat. Could it be that mysilence was the catalyst for this small victory? Byallowing Jaime the room that silence allows to make(80) his own decision about talking to me, I had made a con-nection. Suddenly, I knew that my long held opinionof silence was forever changed.Q.Which of the following statements about the people on the bus is best supported by the passage?a)The bus is filled with fascinating people, most of whom you see on every bus ride.b)People who ride the bus are always quiet.c)You might never see the same people on any given bus ride.d)People who take the bus are dull and uninteresting.Correct answer is option 'C'. Can you explain this answer? theory, EduRev gives you an ample number of questions to practice Directions:Read the passages and choose the best answer to each question.PassagePROSE FICTION: Silence: A Story of Courage and HealingSome say that silence is a great healer. If you’dsaid that to me two years ago, I wouldn’t have agreed.“Silence,” I would have argued, “is anything but heal-ing. There is nothing therapeutic about keeping your(5) feelings inside, never talking about what’s going on inyour life.” I now believe that silence is the reward youget from great healing, in addition to being the healeritself. But I didn’t know that then.I had never understood the value of silence.(10) I didn’t have to. My family was loud and happy. Andwhy not? Nothing serious ever went wrong—not thatwe knew about. Sure, my siblings and I always foughtnoisily until our mom yelled at us to stop. Then we’dshout and complain about injustice, but always, even-(15) tually, hug and make-up. Within the parameters of myinnocent world, I knew silence as a lack of something:a lack of noise, a lack of discussion, a lack of feel-ing, a lack of love. Maybe I was even a little afraidof the emptiness it created—the aural darkness where(20) forgiveness never happened. I thought I knew ... I wasvery wrong.Jaime entered my life without much fanfare abouttwo years ago. I’ll never forget the day I met him.My university required a community service stint to(25) graduate, and I wanted to get it out of the way. I’dheard that the local YMCA was a good resource, and Iliked working with little kids. I thought maybe they’dlet me teach swimming. So, on a cool October day inthe fall of my sophomore year, I made my way to the(30) YMCA looking for easy credits.I didn’t have a car at school until my junior yearof college, so if I needed to go anywhere, I wouldgenerally catch a ride with a friend or walk. On thatparticular day, no friend was available and the ten-mile(35) walk was far beyond my dedication to public service.Consequently, I was at the mercy of public transporta-tion. Thankfully, I’d heard the local bus system waspretty reliable. With the help of the CITA bus linemap, I climbed onto Bus Route 3, paid my fifty cents,(40) and scanned for a seat. Buses often have their ownunique demographic: each crowd is unlike any other.On this bus, most everyone was either asleep or totallyoblivious. Except for one kid. He wasn’t all thatbig—maybe thirteen years old—and he was seated by(45) himself, farther apart from the other riders than seemedpossible in such a crowded space. Unlike the others, hiseyes were alert. And they were glued on me.Normally, I ignore people with such awkwardhabits. But for some reason, I couldn’t stop staring(50) back. Odder still, instead of avoiding him, I foundmyself passing an empty seat to sit down on the benchbeside him. Once I did, he turned to look out the win-dow. That’s when the strangeness of it all hit me, andI started to feel a little awkward. I wanted to get back(55) in control of the situation. Trying to be subtle, I lookedhim over. I noticed some scarring on his hands, anda small gash on his cheek. Suddenly, he turned andlooked me in the eye. Expecting him to say something,I just waited, watching. He said nothing. After about(60) fifteen seconds, I couldn’t take the silence anymore.“Hi,” I said, trying not to appear as nervous as Ifelt.No response. He just kept staring.“I’m Katie.” I added a smile. Again, I received no(65) response. I gave it one more try.“I’ve never used the bus system before. It seemspretty reliable. Do you use it a lot?” Silence. My cheeryvoice sounded out of place. Other people were startingto stare at me. This time I gave up and turned my(70) head toward the front of the bus, trying to ignore thethirteen-year-old staring me down... again. I openedmy cell phone to check the time and saw that only twominutes had passed. This was going to be the longestbus ride ever.(75) Then a thin voice cut through the silence.“I’m Jaime.”My heart skipped a beat. Could it be that mysilence was the catalyst for this small victory? Byallowing Jaime the room that silence allows to make(80) his own decision about talking to me, I had made a con-nection. Suddenly, I knew that my long held opinionof silence was forever changed.Q.Which of the following statements about the people on the bus is best supported by the passage?a)The bus is filled with fascinating people, most of whom you see on every bus ride.b)People who ride the bus are always quiet.c)You might never see the same people on any given bus ride.d)People who take the bus are dull and uninteresting.Correct answer is option 'C'. Can you explain this answer? tests, examples and also practice ACT tests.