My grandson, Daniel, and I have always been very close. When Daniel’s father remarried after a divorce, Daniel, who was eleven, and his little sister, Kristie, came to live with us. My husband and I were more than happy to have kids in the house again.

    Things were going along just fine until the diabetes (糖尿病) I’ve lived with most of my adult life started affecting my eyes, and then more seriously, my kidneys (肾). Then everything seemed to fall apart.

    Three times a week, I had to go to the hospital to be hooked up to a dialysis machine (透析机). I was living, but I couldn’t really call it a life — it was an existence. I had no energy. I dragged myself through daily chores and slept as much as I could. My sense of humor seemed to disappear.

    Daniel, seventeen by then, was really affected by the change in me. He tried as hard as he could to make me laugh, to bring back the grandma who loved to clown around (开玩笑) with him. Even in my sorry state, Daniel could still bring a smile to my face.

    But things were not improving. After a year on dialysis, my condition was deteriorating (恶化) and the doctors felt that if I didn’t receive a kidney transplant within six months, I would surely die. No one told Daniel this, but he knew — he said all he had to do was look after me. To top it off, as my condition worsened, there was a chance that I would become too weak to have the transplant surgery at all, and then there would be nothing they could do for me. So we started the tense and desperate wait for a kidney.

    I was adamant (坚决的) that I didn’t want a kidney from anyone I knew. I would wait until an appropriate kidney became available, or I would literally die waiting. But Daniel had other plans. The time that he took me to my dialysis appointments, he did a little secret research on his own. Then he announced his intention to me.

    “Grandma, I’m giving you one of my kidneys. I’m young and I’m healthy …” He paused. He could see I wasn’t at all happy with his offer. He continued, almost in whisper, “And most of all, I couldn’t stand it if you weren’t around.” His face wore an expression of appeal mixed with determination. He can be as stubborn as a mule (驴) once he decides on something — but I’ve been told many times that I can out-stubborn any mule!

    We argued. I couldn’t let him do it. We both knew that if he gave up his kidney, he would also give up his life’s dream; to play football. It was all he ever talked about. And he was good, too. Daniel was co-captain and star defensive tackle (防守阻截队员) of his high school team; he expected to apply for a football scholarship and was looking forward to playing college football. He just loved the sport.

    “How can I let you throw away the thing that means the most to you?” I pleaded with him.

    “Grandma,” he said softly, “compared to your life, football means nothing to me.”

    After that, I couldn’t argue anymore. So we agreed to see if he was a good donor (捐赠者) match, and then we’d discuss it further. When the tests came back, they showed Daniel was a perfect match. That was it. I knew I wasn’t going to win that argument, so we scheduled the transplant.

    Both surgeries went smoothly. As soon as I came out of the anesthesia (麻醉) , I could tell things were different. I felt great! The nurses in the intensive care unit had to keep telling me to lie back and be quiet — I wasn’t supposed to be that lively! I was afraid to go to sleep, for fear I would break the spell (魔法) and wake up the way I had been before. But the good feeling didn’t go away, and I spent the evening joking and laughing with anyone who would listen. It was so wonderful to feel alive again.

    The next day they moved me out of ICU and onto the floor where Daniel was recuperating (复原) three doors away. His grandfather helped him walk down to see me as soon as I was moved into my room. When we saw each other, we did not know what to say. Holding hands, we just sat there and looked at each other for a long time, overwhelmed by the deep feeling of love that connected us.

    Finally, he spoke, “Was it worthwhile, grandma?”

    I laughed a little ruefully (懊悔). “It was for me! But was it for you?” I asked him.

    He nodded and smiled at me. “I’ve got my grandma back.”

    And I have my life back. It still amazes me. Every morning, when I wake up, I thank God —and Daniel — for this miracle. A miracle born of the purest love.

1.Grandma’s diabetes brought about all the following EXCEPT that _______.

A. her eyes and her kidneys were affected

B. grandma became quite a different person

C. Daniel had to be sent back to his father

D. everything was thrown into confusion

2.When grandma was at her lowest, what did Daniel do to bring her back to her usual life?

A. He tried his best to make her laugh.     

B. He helped her with the daily chores.

C. He gave up his dream of going to college.     

D. He searched desperately for a good donor match.

3.How did grandma feel when Daniel announced his intention to give her one of his kidneys?

A. She was moved by his selfless decision.

B. She wasn’t at all happy with his offer.

C. She felt relieved that an appropriate kidney was available.

D. She was enthusiastic about having a kidney of someone she loved.

4.What would giving up a kidney mean to Daniel, according to the passage?

A. He wouldn’t be young and healthy thereafter.

B. He didn’t have to search for a good match any more.

C. He could apply for a full scholarship to a college he desired.

D. He would also give up his life’s dream: to play football.

5.How was grandma when she came out of the anesthesia after the surgery?

A. She was feeling low.                B. She was full of life.

C. She was exhausted.                D. She was the way she had been before.

6.Which of the following statements is NOT true according to the passage?

A. Grandma got her life back thanks to Daniel’s selfless donation.

B. Grandma thought her returning to life was a miracle of pure love.

C. Daniel agreed with grandma that the transplant was worthwhile for her, not for him.

D. Much as he loved football, grandma’s life meant the most to Daniel.

My grandson, Daniel, and I have always been very close. When Daniel’s father remarried after a divorce, Daniel, who was eleven, and his little sister, Kristie, came to live with us. My husband and I were more than happy to have kids in the house again.
Things were going along just fine until the diabetes (糖尿病) I’ve lived with most of my adult life started affecting my eyes, and then more seriously, my kidneys (肾). Then everything seemed to fall apart.
Three times a week, I had to go to the hospital to be hooked up to a dialysis machine (透析机). I was living, but I couldn’t really call it a life — it was an existence. I had no energy. I dragged myself through daily chores and slept as much as I could. My sense of humor seemed to disappear.
Daniel, seventeen by then, was really affected by the change in me. He tried as hard as he could to make me laugh, to bring back the grandma who loved to clown around (开玩笑) with him. Even in my sorry state, Daniel could still bring a smile to my face.
But things were not improving. After a year on dialysis, my condition was deteriorating (恶化) and the doctors felt that if I didn’t receive a kidney transplant within six months, I would surely die. No one told Daniel this, but he knew — he said all he had to do was look after me. To top it off, as my condition worsened, there was a chance that I would become too weak to have the transplant surgery at all, and then there would be nothing they could do for me. So we started the tense and desperate wait for a kidney.
I was adamant (坚决的) that I didn’t want a kidney from anyone I knew. I would wait until an appropriate kidney became available, or I would literally die waiting. But Daniel had other plans. The time that he took me to my dialysis appointments, he did a little secret research on his own. Then he announced his intention to me.
“Grandma, I’m giving you one of my kidneys. I’m young and I’m healthy …” He paused. He could see I wasn’t at all happy with his offer. He continued, almost in whisper, “And most of all, I couldn’t stand it if you weren’t around.” His face wore an expression of appeal mixed with determination. He can be as stubborn as a mule (驴) once he decides on something — but I’ve been told many times that I can out-stubborn any mule!
We argued. I couldn’t let him do it. We both knew that if he gave up his kidney, he would also give up his life’s dream; to play football. It was all he ever talked about. And he was good, too. Daniel was co-captain and star defensive tackle (防守阻截队员) of his high school team; he expected to apply for a football scholarship and was looking forward to playing college football. He just loved the sport.
“How can I let you throw away the thing that means the most to you?” I pleaded with him.
“Grandma,” he said softly, “compared to your life, football means nothing to me.”
After that, I couldn’t argue anymore. So we agreed to see if he was a good donor (捐赠者) match, and then we’d discuss it further. When the tests came back, they showed Daniel was a perfect match. That was it. I knew I wasn’t going to win that argument, so we scheduled the transplant.
Both surgeries went smoothly. As soon as I came out of the anesthesia (麻醉) , I could tell things were different. I felt great! The nurses in the intensive care unit had to keep telling me to lie back and be quiet — I wasn’t supposed to be that lively! I was afraid to go to sleep, for fear I would break the spell (魔法) and wake up the way I had been before. But the good feeling didn’t go away, and I spent the evening joking and laughing with anyone who would listen. It was so wonderful to feel alive again.
The next day they moved me out of ICU and onto the floor where Daniel was recuperating (复原) three doors away. His grandfather helped him walk down to see me as soon as I was moved into my room. When we saw each other, we did not know what to say. Holding hands, we just sat there and looked at each other for a long time, overwhelmed by the deep feeling of love that connected us.
Finally, he spoke, “Was it worthwhile, grandma?”
I laughed a little ruefully (懊悔). “It was for me! But was it for you?” I asked him.
He nodded and smiled at me. “I’ve got my grandma back.”
And I have my life back. It still amazes me. Every morning, when I wake up, I thank God —and Daniel — for this miracle. A miracle born of the purest love

1. 1.

   Grandma’s diabetes brought about all the following EXCEPT that _______

   1. A.
      her eyes and her kidneys were affected
   2. B.
      grandma became quite a different person
   3. C.
      Daniel had to be sent back to his father
   4. D.
      everything was thrown into confusion
2. 2.

   When grandma was at her lowest, what did Daniel do to bring her back to her usual life?

   1. A.
      He tried his best to make her laugh
   2. B.
      He helped her with the daily chores
   3. C.
      He gave up his dream of going to college
   4. D.
      He searched desperately for a good donor match
3. 3.

   How did grandma feel when Daniel announced his intention to give her one of his kidneys?

   1. A.
      She was moved by his selfless decision
   2. B.
      She wasn’t at all happy with his offer
   3. C.
      She felt relieved that an appropriate kidney was available
   4. D.
      She was enthusiastic about having a kidney of someone she loved
4. 4.

   What would giving up a kidney mean to Daniel, according to the passage?

   1. A.
      He wouldn’t be young and healthy thereafter
   2. B.
      He didn’t have to search for a good match any more
   3. C.
      He could apply for a full scholarship to a college he desired
   4. D.
      He would also give up his life’s dream: to play football
5. 5.

   How was grandma when she came out of the anesthesia after the surgery?

   1. A.
      She was feeling low
   2. B.
      She was full of life
   3. C.
      She was exhausted
   4. D.
      She was the way she had been before
6. 6.

   Which of the following statements is NOT true according to the passage?

   1. A.
      Grandma got her life back thanks to Daniel’s selfless donation
   2. B.
      Grandma thought her returning to life was a miracle of pure love
   3. C.
      Daniel agreed with grandma that the transplant was worthwhile for her, not for him
   4. D.
      Much as he loved football, grandma’s life meant the most to Daniel

The first time I saw Carlos I would never have believed he was going to change my life. I had my arms full of books and I was tearing into the classroom when I ran into something solid. It was Carlos. “My God, you’re tall,” he said. Of course, the class began to laugh. Angry, I walked to my seat without a word.

I glanced back to see if Reed Harrington was laughing with the rest. That would be the last straw. But Reed was studying chemistry and did not seem to be aware of anything else. I didn’t know why I considered Reed my friend. Maybe just because he was a good two inches taller than I. Anyway, every time I blew out my birthday candles and made a wish, it was for a date with Reed Harrington.

“Take that seat,” Mr. McCarthy told the cocky newcomer Carlos, pointing to the only empty one, in the back of the room. Carlos grinned, “But I need a couple of dictionaries.” Again the class laughed, but now they were laughing with Carlos, not at him. He had been here only 10 minutes and already he had them on his side.

The bell rang for classes. As I stood up to go I saw Carlos coming toward me. “I’m sorry I  embarrassed you,” he said. I look straight ahead over the top of his black hair. “That’s all right.” “I ought to know better.” He was still blocking my way. “What’s your name?” “Karen Forbes.” “You probably heard me say; I’m Carlos Herrear.” He held out his hand. Unwillingly, I shook hands with him. He looked up at me seriously with his brown eyes. “I don’t see why you’re so touchy.” I brushed by him and said sharply, “You wouldn’t understand.” He followed me a few steps. “I’m just the one who should, Karen,” he said. “You and I have a lot in common.”

It was the school elections that made me think of Carlos again. Reed Harrington was voted president and Carlos vice-president. “How come?” I kept asking myself, “How come this shrimp who’s only been in town for a little over a month gets to be so popular?”

So on that morning, I stopped Carlos and said, “It doesn’t seem to bother you—being short.” He looked up at me. “Of course I mind being short. But there isn’t anything I can do about it. When I realized I was going to have to spend my life in this undersized skin, I just decided to make the best of it and concentrate on being myself.” “You seem to get along great,” I admitted. “But what about me? Nobody wants to date a girl taller than he is.” “The trouble with you is you’re afraid to be yourself. You’re smart. And you could be pretty. In fact, you might be more than pretty.” I felt myself turning red...

56. It is a story about a short boy who ________.

A. won the school election            B. is ashamed of his height

C. has learned to accept his size        D. is embarrassed by his class

57. What can be inferred from Paragraph 2?

A. The author cared much about Reed’s attitude.

B. The author was relieved to find Reed focused on his studies

C. The author thought Reed was the same as the others.

D. The author couldn’t stand Carlos playing tricks on her.

58. What does the underlined word “touchy” in Paragraph 4 most probably mean?

A. Moved.         B. Cheerful.       C. Curious.          D. Annoyed.

59. From the text, we can see Carlos is _________.

A. handsome and proud            B. humorous and confident

C. diligent but shy                  D. honest but sensitive

60. According to the text, which is the most likely ending of the story?

A. Reed and Carlos became very good friends.

B. Carlos and the author argued with each other.

C. The author changed her attitude to Carlos.

D. Carlos was elected president of the student committee.

My Way to Success

From the day I signed up for the Naumburg Competition, everything changed. I had made a decision to start again, to save my life, and that meant a 360-degree turnaround.
I kept on practicing. An enormous amount of work had to be done in two months. I went from not practicing at all to thirteen hours a day.
I spent two weeks just playing scales. If I thought I sounded bad before, now I sounded worse than awful.
At the time I lived on 72nd Street, close to West End Avenue. I had an apartment with a window the size of a shoebox. I didn't do mylaundry. I left my apartment only to walk to Juilliard─and not onBroadway like everyone else. I walked up Amsterdam Avenue because I didn't want to see anybody, didn't want to run into anybody, didn't want anyone to ask what I was doing.
I stopped going to classes and became a hermit. I even talked Miss DeLay into giving my lesson at night.
My eating habits were awful. I lived on fried sausages, a pint of peanut butter/chocolate ice cream, and a gallon of Coca-Cola every day. That's all I ate for eight weeks.
I was nuts. I was completely obsessed with getting back into shape, with doing well in this competition. If I could, people would know I was still on earth. Not to count me out; to stop asking, “Whatever happened to Nadja?”
The last week before the Naumburg auditions, I couldn't touch the violin. I had worked and worked and worked and worked and then I just couldn't work anymore.
I certainly could have used it. I wasn't as prepared as I should have been. But I simply had to say, “Nadja, you've dedicated yourself to this thing. Ready or not, do your best.”
Fifty violinists from around the world auditioned for the competition on May 25, 26, and 27, 1981. Those that made it past thepreliminaries would go on to the semifinals. Those that passed that stage would go to the finals. In years past, one violinist was chosen as winner and two received second and third place.
On May 26, the day of my audition, I went to the Merkin Concert Hall at 67th Street and Broadway. I waited, played for twenty minutes, and went home. I couldn't tell whether the preliminary judges were impressed or not. I'd find out the next evening.
Maybe subconsciously I was trying to keep busy; that night, when I fried the sausages, I accidentally set my apartment on fire. I grabbed my cat and my violin, and ran out the door. The fire was put out, but everything in my place was wrecked.
Fortunately, the phone was okay and on the evening of May 27, I had the news from Lucy Rowan Mann of Naumburg. Thirteen of us had made it.
Talk about mixed emotions. I was thrilled to be among the thirteen; a group that included established violinists, some of whom had already made records. But it also meant I had to play the next day in the semifinals of the competition.
Everyone entering the competition had been given two lists of concertos. One was a list of standard repertory pieces. The other list was twentieth-century repertory. For our big competition piece, we were to choose from each list and play a movement from one in the semifinals, and a movement from the other in the finals─if we made it that far.
From the standard repertory list, I chose the Tchaikovsky Concerto. I had been playing the Tchaik for three years, so it was a good piece for me.
From the twentieth-century list, I chose the Prokofiev G minor Concerto. I had never played it onstage before.
My goal had been just passing the auditions, but now my thought pattern began to change. If I wanted a sliver of a chance of advancing again, my brain said, “Play your strong piece first.”
Logically, I should play the Tchaikovsky in the semifinals just to make it to the next stage. Who cared if that left me with a piece I probably wouldn't play as well in the finals of the competition? It'd be a miracle to get that far.
There wouldn't be more than seven violinists chosen for the final round, and if I were in the top seven of an international group, that was plenty good enough.
The semifinals were held on May 28 in Merkin Concert Hall. You were to play for thirty minutes: your big piece first, then the judges would ask to hear another.
There was a panel of eight judges. They had a piece of paper with my choices of the Tchaikovsky and the Prokofiev in front of them. “Which would you like to play?” they asked.
I said meekly, “Prokofiev.”
My brain and all the logic in the world had said, “Play your strong piece.” My heart said, “Go for it all. Play your weak piece now, save Tchaikovsky for the finals.”
Maybe I don't listen to logic so easily after all.
My good friend, the pianist Sandra Rivers, had been chosen as accompanist for the competition. She knew I was nervous. There had been a very short time to prepare; I was sure there'd be memory slips, that I'd blank out in the middle and the judges would throw me out. My hands were like ice.
The first eight measures of the Prokofiev don't have accompaniment. The violin starts the piece alone. So I started playing.
I got through the first movement and Sandra said later my face was as white as snow. She said I was so tense, I was beyond shaking. Just a solid brick.
It was the best I'd ever played it. No memory slips at all. Technically, musically, it was there.
I finished it thinking, “Have I sold my soul for this? Is the devil going to visit me at midnight? How come it went so well?”
I didn't know why, but often I do my best under the worst of circumstances. I don't know if it's guts or a determination not to disappoint people. Who knows what it is, but it came through for me, and I thank God for that.
As the first movement ended, the judges said, “Thank you.” Then they asked for the Carmen Fantasy.
I turned and asked Sandy for an A, to retune, and later she said the blood was just rushing back into my face.
I whispered, “Sandy, I made it. I did it.”
“Yeah,” she whispered back, kiddingly, “too bad you didn't screw up. Maybe next time.”
At that point I didn't care if I did make the finals because I had played the Prokofiev so well. I was so proud of myself for coming through.
I needed a shot in the arm; that afternoon I got evicted. While I was at Merkin, my moped had blown up. For my landlord, that was the last straw.
What good news. I was completely broke and didn't have the next month's rent anyway. The landlord wanted me out that day. I said, “Please, can I have two days. I might get into the finals, can I please go through this first?”
I talked him into it, and got back to my place in time for the phone call. “Congratulations, Nadja,”“they said. “You have made the finals.”
I had achieved the ridiculously unlikely, and I had saved my best piece. Yet part of me was sorry. I wanted it to be over already. In the three days from the preliminaries to the semifinals, I lost eight pounds. I was so tired of the pressure.
There was a fellow who advanced to the finals with me, an old, good friend since Pre-College. Competition against friends is inevitable in music, but I never saw competition push a friendship out the window so quickly. By the day of the finals, I hated him and he hated me. Pressure was that intense.
The finals were held on May 29 at Carnegie Hall and open to the public. I was the fourth violinist of the morning, then there was a lunch break, and three more violinists in the afternoon.
I played my Tchaikovsky, Saint-Sa‘ns’s Havanaise, and Ravel's Tzigane for the judges: managers, famous violinists, teachers, and critics. I went on stage at five past eleven and finished at noon. Those fifty-five minutes seemed like three days.
I was so relieved when I finished playing; I was finished! It's impossible to say how happy I was to see the dressing room. I went out for lunch with my friends. It was like coming back from the grave. We laughed and joked and watched TV.
As I returned to Carnegie Hall to hear the other violinists, I realized I'd made a big mistake: they might ask for recalls. A recall is when they can't decide between two people and they want you to play again. It's been done; it's done all the time in competitions. No way was I in shape to go onstage and play again.
In the late afternoon, the competition was over. Everybody had finished playing. Quite luckily─no recalls.
The judges deliberated for an hour. The tension in the air was unbelievable. All the violinists were sitting with their little circle of friends. I had my few friends around me, but no one was saying much now.
Finally, the Naumburg Foundation president Robert Mann came on stage.
“It's always so difficult to choose ...” he began.
“Every year we hold this competition,” Robert Mann said. “And in the past, we've awarded three prizes. This year we've elected to only have one prize, the first prize.”
My heart sank. Nothing for me. Not even Miss Congeniality.
“We have found,” Mann went on, “that second place usually brings great dismay to the artist because they feel like a loser. We don't want anyone here to feel like a loser. Every finalist will receive five hundred dollars except the winner, who will receive three thousand dollars.”
And then he repeated how difficult it was to choose, how well everyone had played ...dah, dah, dah.
I was looking down at the floor.  
“The winner is ...”
And he said my name.
A friend next to me said, “Nadja, I think you won!”
I went numb. My friends pulled me up and pointed me toward the stage. It was a long walk because I had slipped into a seat in the back. Sitting up in front was my old friend. I would have to walk right past him and I was dreading it, but before I could, he got up and stopped me.
He threw his arms around me and I threw my arms around him. I kept telling him how sorry I was. I was holding him and started to cry, saying, “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.” I didn't want to lose, but I really didn't want him to lose either. And he was holding me and saying, “Don't be sorry. I'm so proud of you.” It was over, and we would be friends again.
I took my bow, then ran to Juilliard. Ten blocks uptown, one block west, to give Miss DeLay the news. She could be proud of me now, too.
Suddenly, everything was clear. Playing the violin is what I'd do with my life. Heaven handed me a prize: “You've been through a lot, kid. Here's an international competition.”
Everything had changed when I prepared for the Naumburg, and now everything changed again. I made my first recording. Between September 1981 and May 1982, I played a hundred concerts in America, made one trip to Europe, then two months of summer festivals. And people asked me back.
There was a great deal of anxiety playing in Europe for the first time. But I was able to rely on my self-confidence to pull me through.
Self-confidence onstage doesn't mean a lack of nerves backstage. The stakes had increased. This wasn't practice anymore, this was my life. I'd stare into a dressing-room mirror and say, “Nadja, people have bought tickets, hired baby-sitters, you've got to calm down; go out there and prove yourself.”
Every night I'd prove myself again. My life work had truly begun

1. 1.

   In a gesture to prepare for the competition, Nadja did all the following except _________

   1. A.
      preoccupying herself in practice
   2. B.
      trying to carry out her deeds secretly
   3. C.
      abandoning going to school for classes
   4. D.
      consuming the best food to get enough energy
2. 2.

   How many violinists does the passage mention advanced to the finals?

   1. A.
      Four
   2. B.
      Five
   3. C.
      Six
   4. D.
      Seven
3. 3.

   After Nadja finished playing at the finals, she went out for a while and when she came back to hear the other violinists she realized she had made a mistake because _________

   1. A.
      she forgot that there was going to be a recall
   2. B.
      she didn’t get hold of the permission to leave
   3. C.
      chances were that she had to replay and she was off guard
   4. D.
      there was another play she had to take part in in the afternoon

The first time I saw Carlos I would never have believed he was going to change my life. I had my arms full of books and I was tearing into the classroom when 1 ran into something solid. It was Carlos.

“My God, you’re tall,” he said.

Of course, the class began to laugh. Angry, I walked to my seat without a word.

I glanced back to see if Reed Harrington was laughing with the rest. That would be the last straw. But Reed was studying chemistry and did not seem to be aware of anything else. I didn’t know why I considered Reed my friend. Maybe just because he was a good two inches taller than I. Anyway, every time I blew out my birthday candles and made a wish, it was for a date with Reed Harrington.

“Take that seat，” Mr. McCarthy told the cocky newcomer Carlos，pointing to the only empty one，in the back of the room.

Carlos laughed widely. “But I need a couple of dictionaries.” Again the class laughed, but now they were laughing with Carlos，not at him. He had been here only 10 minutes and already he had them on his side.

The bell rang for classes. As I stood up to go, I saw Carlos coming toward me. “ I’ sorry I embarrassed you,” he said. I looked straight head over the top of his black hair. “That’s all right.”

    “ I ought to know better.” He was still blocking my way.” What’s your name?” “Karen Forbes.” “ You probably heard me say I’m Carlos Herrera.” He held out his hand. Unwillingly, I shook hands with him. He looked up at me seriously with his brown eyes.” “ I don’t see why you’re so touchy.”

    I brushed by him and said sharply, “You wouldn’t understand.”

    He followed me a few steps. “I’m just the one who should, Karen,” he said. “ You and I have a lot in common.”

    It was the school elections that made me think of Carlos again. Reed Harrington was voted president and Carlos vice-president. “How come?” I kept asking myself,” How come this shrimp who’s only been in town for a little over a month gets to be so popular?”

    So that morning，I stopped Carlos and said，“It doesn’t seem to bother you — being short.” He looked up at me, “Of course I mind being short. But there isn’t anything I can do about it. When I realized I was going to have to spend my life in this undersized skin，I just decided to make the best of it and concentrate on being myself.” “You seem to get along great,” I admitted, “But what about me? Nobody wants to date a girl taller than he is.” “The trouble with you is that you’re afraid to be yourself. You’re smart. And you could be pretty. In fact, you might be more than pretty.” I felt myself turning red…

1.The author was angry because ________.

A．the class made fun of her                    B．Carlos was too rude to her

C．she had to carry many books                D．Reed Harrington didn’t date her

2.Which of the following about Carlos is NOT TRUE?

A．He was popular.                                        B．He was new in the school.

C．He was shorter than the author.            D．He was chosen president in the school elections. 

3.The underlined word “ touchy” in paragraph 8 probably means________

A. moved              B. cheerful           C. curious      D. annoyed

4.We can infer from Paragraph 4 that the author ________.

A. cared much about Reed’s attitude        B. hoped Reed was laughing with others

C. thought Reed was the same as others      D. couldn’t stand Carlos playing tricks on her

5.According to the text, which is the most likely ending?

A.Carlos and Reed became very good friends

B.Carlos and the author argued with each other.

C.The author changed her attitude towards Carlos.

D.Carlos was elected president of the student committee.