Question

@CuteGirl903k

Answer 1

@CuteGirl903k

Answer 2

@CuteGirl903k

Answer 3

I can only spend 20 mins on here through

Answer 4

Untying the long tasseled strings that bound a small brown buckskin bag, my mother spread upon a mat beside her bunches of colored beads, just as an artist arranges the paints upon his palette. On a lapboard she smoothed out a double sheet of soft white buckskin; and drawing from a beaded case that hung on the left of her wide belt a long, narrow blade, she trimmed the buckskin into shape. Often she worked upon small moccasins for her small daughter. Then I became intensely interested in her designing. With a proud, beaming face, I watched her work. In imagination, I saw myself walking in a new pair of snugly fitting moccasins. I felt the envious eyes of my playmates upon the pretty red beads decorating my feet.
Close beside my mother I sat on a rug, with a scrap of buckskin in one hand and an awl in the other. This was the beginning of my practical observation lessons in the art of beadwork. From a skein of finely twisted threads of silvery sinews my mother pulled out a single one. With an awl she pierced the buckskin, and skillfully threaded it with the white sinew. Picking up the tiny beads one by one, she strung them with the point of her thread, always twisting it carefully after every stitch.
It took many trials before I learned how to knot my sinew thread on the point of my finger, as I saw her do. Then the next difficulty was in keeping my thread stiffly twisted, so that I could easily string my beads upon it. My mother required of me original designs for my lessons in beading. At first I frequently ensnared many a sunny hour into working a long design. Soon I learned from self-inflicted punishment to refrain from drawing complex patterns, for I had to finish whatever I began.
After some experience I usually drew easy and simple crosses and squares. These were some of the set forms. My original designs were not always symmetrical nor sufficiently characteristic, two faults with which my mother had little patience. The quietness of her oversight made me feel strongly responsible and dependent upon my own judgment. She treated me as a dignified little individual as long as I was on my good behavior; and how humiliated I was when some boldness of mine drew forth a rebuke from her!
In the choice of colors she left me to my own taste. I was pleased with an outline of yellow upon a background of dark blue, or a combination of red and myrtle-green. There was another of red with a bluish-gray that was more conventionally used. When I became a little familiar with designing and the various pleasing combinations of color, a harder lesson was given me. It was the sewing on, instead of beads, some tinted porcupine quills, moistened and flattened between the nails of the thumb and forefinger. My mother cut off the wingspanly ends and burned them at once in the centre fire. These sharp points were poisonous, and worked into the flesh wherever they lodged. For this reason, my mother said, I should not do much alone in quills until I was as tall as my cousin Warca-Ziwin.

1.
Why does the narrator's mother take such great care with the beadwork lessons?

to punish the narrator for misbehaving
to help make the narrator feel superior to others
to teach the narrator a lesson about life
to show the narrator a way to make money

Answer 5

well we have to go fast then:) and then we can kik later:)

Answer 6

ok i closed it so no one can come in:)

Answer 7

not sure gonna go with c. :/

Answer 8

yep:)
Ray and his best friend Harry walked down the street. It was very hot outside; Ray's father had warned him that today was going to be the hottest day on record. The temperature was expected to reach well over 100 degrees in the shade. He held his hand over his eyes to shield himself from the blazing sun. At the same time, Harry tossed his football up and down as the two marched down the sidewalk.
"Okay," Harry said, grinning. "Last one down to the Quickie Mart pays for the candy."
"Are you crazy?" Ray asked. "It's 100 degrees out here! The Quickie Mart is a mile away!"
"Football tryouts start soon," Harry said. "Coach Brennan's going to make us do three of these in August, when it gets hotter."
Ray bit his lip. Harry was right, of course. The two had promised each other that they would both make the eighth grade football team. Coach Brennan was not a man to be toyed with. Several angry parents of would-be football players had called the school and asked for Coach Brennan to be removed. Coach Brennan, they argued, was too tough on the kids; he was notorious for demanding wind sprints and push-ups in the blazing August heat.
"You think we'll end up like Jimmy Brewer?" Ray asked. Jimmy Brewer had tried out for the team last year but had passed out on the first day of the coach's strenuous physical training. He had ended up in the hospital as a result.
"You know why Jimmy Brewer passed out?" Harry asked. "Because he never trained himself like we do. We're tough guys. Remember last winter? If we can run a mile in the snow, we can definitely do it in the heat."
Before Harry knew what was going on, Ray had already snatched the football from out of his hands and was running full tilt down the street with it in the direction of the Quickie Mart.
"Fumble!" Ray cried out as he dashed down the sidewalk. He looked over his shoulder and saw his friend trying to keep up.
The race to the Quickie Mart was only a mile, but in the summer heat, it felt like more. Ray pumped his legs harder, trying to outrun Harry. About twenty paces away from the Quickie Mart, Ray stopped and braced his hands on his knees. His head pounded like a drum. He wandered over to the curb and placed the football in his lap. He was absolutely exhausted.
A moment later, Harry stood over him, gasping and panting in the heat. "Now we know how Jimmy Brewer felt."
Ray was so exhausted he couldn't even smile.

2.
The boys begin to run when

Ray steals Harry's football.
Harry tosses the football up.
Jimmy Brewer passes out.
Ray asks about Jimmy Brewer.

Answer 9

there you go:)

Answer 10

a.

Answer 11

yep:)
Ray and his best friend Harry walked down the street. It was very hot outside; Ray's father had warned him that today was going to be the hottest day on record. The temperature was expected to reach well over 100 degrees in the shade. He held his hand over his eyes to shield himself from the blazing sun. At the same time, Harry tossed his football up and down as the two marched down the sidewalk.
"Okay," Harry said, grinning. "Last one down to the Quickie Mart pays for the candy."
"Are you crazy?" Ray asked. "It's 100 degrees out here! The Quickie Mart is a mile away!"
"Football tryouts start soon," Harry said. "Coach Brennan's going to make us do three of these in August, when it gets hotter."
Ray bit his lip. Harry was right, of course. The two had promised each other that they would both make the eighth grade football team. Coach Brennan was not a man to be toyed with. Several angry parents of would-be football players had called the school and asked for Coach Brennan to be removed. Coach Brennan, they argued, was too tough on the kids; he was notorious for demanding wind sprints and push-ups in the blazing August heat.
"You think we'll end up like Jimmy Brewer?" Ray asked. Jimmy Brewer had tried out for the team last year but had passed out on the first day of the coach's strenuous physical training. He had ended up in the hospital as a result.
"You know why Jimmy Brewer passed out?" Harry asked. "Because he never trained himself like we do. We're tough guys. Remember last winter? If we can run a mile in the snow, we can definitely do it in the heat."
Before Harry knew what was going on, Ray had already snatched the football from out of his hands and was running full tilt down the street with it in the direction of the Quickie Mart.
"Fumble!" Ray cried out as he dashed down the sidewalk. He looked over his shoulder and saw his friend trying to keep up.
The race to the Quickie Mart was only a mile, but in the summer heat, it felt like more. Ray pumped his legs harder, trying to outrun Harry. About twenty paces away from the Quickie Mart, Ray stopped and braced his hands on his knees. His head pounded like a drum. He wandered over to the curb and placed the football in his lap. He was absolutely exhausted.
A moment later, Harry stood over him, gasping and panting in the heat. "Now we know how Jimmy Brewer felt."
Ray was so exhausted he couldn't even smile.

3.
Ray and Harry decide to run in the hot weather mainly because

they need to see who can run faster than the other.
they do not know who should pay for the candy.
they are excited about buying candy at the store.
they want to make the eighth grade football team.

Answer 12

a. i think :/

Answer 13

how many question have you done

Answer 14

no D.:)
My new school’s ski trip seemed like a good idea to my mom. Mom must have imagined me—her seventh-grade daughter, Carly—and my new, rosy-cheeked friends sipping hot chocolate beside a roaring fire. After all, she knew I couldn’t ski.
“So? You’ll learn,” she said, conveniently forgetting that I was nearly ten before I could manage a two-wheeler.
“But I don’t really know anybody,” I said, afraid to admit the whole truth. I’d been in school for months and still had no friends.
“What better way to get acquainted?” she said.
Obviously, I had no clue.
After hours on the bus with rival boom boxes blaring, we finally arrived at the slopes.
My ski lesson went well. I learned how to break skis. Bindings snapped off under my clumsy legs.
“It’s OK,” the instructor said. “That’s supposed to happen. Sometimes it keeps you from getting hurt.”
“Sometimes?”
He pointed to the plaster cast on his ankle. “Avoid the bumps on the slope,” he said.
He repaired my skis and sent me toward a rope that was moving up the mountain.
“Stick with the bunny slope,” he said. “It’s the easiest slope.”
My classmates had all raced for the lift lines to Mounts Denali, Rushmore, and Vesuvius. I shuffled to the bunny slope’s lift and grabbed on.
The icy rope slid through my mittens. My frostbitten fingers gripped tighter and harder but to no aim. Fidgety four-year-olds stiffened up behind me. As I turned to apologize, a knot reached my hands and dragged me up the hill.
When I reached the top, I reviewed what I’d learned. The instructor had said to point your ski tips together to stop. He called it “snowplowing.” Where I’m from, we use a pickup truck with a giant blade in the front. He kept saying to zigzag down the mountain.
With this wealth of knowledge, I slid off. I followed the tracks of the child who’d gone before me. Since her ski tips eventually plowed together, I stopped.
Finally I squatted, figuring that the closer I was to the snow, the easier it would be to fall. Skis together, aimed directly at the ski-lodge door, I zipped down the hill.
The cold air suddenly turned fresh and exciting. I felt like an Olympic champion. At long last, the thrill of skiing!
I snowplowed to a stop and entered the lodge. My cheeks tingled from the warmth of the crowded room, and the biggest, most ridiculous smile took over my face.
“I’m still here,” I said. The room didn’t erupt with applause, but no one pelted me with snowballs either. Actually, nothing had changed. Just my attitude.
Without thinking twice, I went up to Marie, a girl from my math class. “Hi, I’m Carly,” I said. “Fracture anything yet?”
Her face reddened. “They had to stop the ski lift so I could get on,” she said. “I wanted to die.”
“Aw, that’s nothing,” said a kid named Joey. He took off his cool sunglasses. “I had to change my name and put on a disguise after the Ski Patrol chased me for going too fast.”
“Look what happened to me!” said a guy named Matt. He wore a bike helmet, and the exposed hair that peeked out around his face was frozen into stiff, curly ringlets.
“I did a belly flop to avoid the tree that jumped into my way,” he said with a smile.
Marie and I laughed. To my surprise, I discovered that my mother was right. What better way to get acquainted?
Matt, Joey, Marie, and I hit the slopes again.
Copyright (c) 2000 by Highlights for Children, Inc., Columbus, Ohio.

4.
Which sentence from the passage best describes a conflict in the story?

"The icy rope slid through my mittens."
"Matt, Joey, Marie, and I hit the slopes again."
"I snowplowed to a stop and entered the lodge."
"Actually, nothing had changed."

4 so far:)

Answer 15

how many tests do you have left and i think this one is a.

Answer 16

1 more after this:)

Answer 17

yep:)
Help! Somebody call 9-1-1!" Carmen yelped.
"What's wrong?" Tiffany asked, reaching for her cell phone.
"Look at my legs, they are covered with mosquitoes!" She reached down to brush them off. "I'm a mosquito magnet. If there's a mosquito within two miles of me, it'll find my skin. I'm so tired of being bitten." Carmen and four of her friends had gone to the river to swim and talk. None of them had told their parents where they were going.
"That's no reason to call 9-1-1," Tiffany said as she put up her phone.
"Here, try some of this bug spray," Elaine said. "It works for me."
"I don't like the way that stuff feels on my skin," Carmen said.
"My weird aunt says if you meditate and connect with the spirit of the mosquito and ask it to stop biting you, they will stop," Tara said. "I tried it, and it worked for me. I don't have trouble with mosquitoes anymore."
Carmen slapped her legs with both hands. "They'd eat me alive if I sat here and meditated. I didn't think there would be this many mosquitoes this late in the year. I'm afraid I am going to have to leave."
Barb reached in her backpack and pulled out a box of fabric-softener sheets that go in the clothes dryer. "I used to be a mosquito magnet too until I started rubbing these things on my skin," she said. "I haven't had any problem since." She handed the box to Carmen.
Carmen looked doubtful but took out a sheet to sniff it. "It smells better than that bug spray," she said and wiped the sheet over all her exposed skin. Sure enough, not a single mosquito landed on her. "This is fantastic. I'm ready to play!"

5.
What is the main conflict in the passage?

Mosquitoes are attacking Carmen, and she wants to leave.
Carmen cannot use the bug spray because she is allergic to it.
The girls do not tell their parents where they are going.
Carmen cannot meditate because there are so many mosquitoes.

Answer 18

u still here girlie

Answer 19

wth

Answer 20

hola

Answer 21

one sec

Answer 22

i think a.

Answer 23

As soon as Mrs. Peal asked the question, Jack felt the knot in his stomach. He felt that knot because he knew he was going to lie. He had gotten onto her roof from the elm tree in his backyard and had broken one of her roof tiles when he had landed. Mrs. Peal wasn't home at the time, but the damage was obvious when she pulled into the driveway.
Jack had already gotten in trouble for climbing on his own roof. Mrs. Peal knew that because she had called his mother when she'd seen him playing on the roof one day.
Jack liked the adventure of being up high where he could get a bird's-eye view of the world. He felt invisible. He knew it was dangerous, but he was always careful, and the trees in the yard gave him such an easy way to get to the roof.
But here was Mrs. Peal: "Jack, did you get on my roof?"
"No, ma'am, I didn't get near your roof," he lied.
"Then tell me how you think that roof tile up there got broken," she said, pointing to the spot. "It's right under the branch of your favorite elm tree."
"I don't know, Mrs. Peal, maybe a squirrel fell or maybe something fell out of an airplane," he said. His stomach was really churning, and all he could think of was getting away from his neighbor. He couldn't believe he'd said that about the airplane—that was the stupidest thing he'd ever heard!
Mrs. Peal laughed and shook her head. "When was the last time you saw an airplane flying over my house?"
"Sometimes airplanes fly so high you can't see them," Jack said.
"Don't make it worse for yourself by lying to me, Jack," she said. "You look me right in the eyes and tell me you didn't break the tile when you jumped out of the tree." She took his shoulders in both hands and looked Jack right in his eyes.
Jack knew he'd been caught and exhaled deeply. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Peal. I didn't mean to break your tile. I can just see so much farther from your roof than my roof."
"Jack, you're not supposed to be on the roof, period," Mrs. Peal said. "You know what your parents said: 'Stay off the roof.' It's dangerous."
"Are you going to tell my parents?" Jack asked.
"I think so because I don't have the money to fix that tile," Mrs. Peal replied.
Jack felt the emptiness in the pit of his stomach again, knowing that he would get in trouble.

8.
What is the main conflict of this passage

Jack fears that Mrs. Peal will tell his parents.
Jack lies about getting on the roof.
Jack thinks airplanes fly too high.
Mrs. Peal can't afford to repair the tile

Answer 24

d. i think

Answer 25

b

Answer 26

It was a dark and cold winter morning. Jim and his brother Carl waited impatiently for the school bus. Carl chewed on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
"I hate going to school," Jim said. "You never know what might go wrong during the day. We might have a pop quiz or be attacked by the school bully."
Carl finished the last sandwich bite and moved on to a thermos filled with chocolate milk. "It's a lot more fun in my class."
"Sure," Jim said. "It's because you're in kindergarten. Everything's fun in kindergarten."
The bus arrived. Both boys walked into it and separated to find their friends. As Jim sat down next to his best friend Mike, he noticed something.
"Hey, my lunchbox feels really light."

9.
Based on the story, which event causes Jim's lunchbox to feel light?

Jim's lunch falls out of his lunchbox.
Jim's mom forgets to pack his lunch.
Carl eats Jim's lunch at the bus stop.
The school bully steals Jim's lunch.

Answer 27

please think about this one my score is down to an 50%

Answer 28

nvm bye i am about to kik you girlie:)

Answer 29

ok bye!!!:P

Answer 30

u still on???

Answer 31

yeah im about to go to sleep in a minute :P

Answer 32

kk can we kik in a little bit:)

Answer 33

no prob :)

Answer 34

kk u start when u want to:)