ACT Reading Practice Test 37

PROSE FICTION: Silence: A Story of Courage and Healing

Some say that silence is a great healer. If you’d said that to me two years ago, I wouldn’t have agreed. “Silence,” I would have argued, “is anything but healing. There is nothing therapeutic about keeping your

Line 5 feelings inside, never talking about what’s going on in your life.” I now believe that silence is the reward you get from great healing, in addition to being the healer itself. 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. And why not? Nothing serious ever went wrong—not that we knew about. Sure, my siblings and I always fought noisily until our mom yelled at us to stop. Then we’d shout and complain about injustice, but always, eventually,

15 hug and make-up. Within the parameters of my innocent world, I knew silence as a lack of something: a lack of noise, a lack of discussion, a lack of feeling, a lack of love. Maybe I was even a little afraid of the emptiness it created—the aural darkness where

20 forgiveness never happened. I thought I knew … I was very wrong. Jaime entered my life without much fanfare about two 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’d heard that the local YMCA was a good resource, and I liked working with little kids. I thought maybe they’d let me teach swimming. So, on a cool October day in the 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 year of college, so if I needed to go anywhere, I would generally catch a ride with a friend or walk. On that particular 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 transportation. Thankfully, I’d heard the local bus system was pretty reliable. With the help of the CITA bus line map, I climbed onto Bus Route 3, paid my fifty cents,

40 and scanned for a seat. Buses often have their own unique demographic: each crowd is unlike any other. On this bus, most everyone was either asleep or totally oblivious. Except for one kid. He wasn’t all that big—maybe thirteen years old—and he was seated by

45 himself, farther apart from the other riders than seemed possible in such a crowded space. Unlike the others, his eyes were alert. And they were glued on me. Normally, I ignore people with such awkward habits. But for some reason, I couldn’t stop staring

50 back. Odder still, instead of avoiding him, I found myself passing an empty seat to sit down on the bench beside him. Once I did, he turned to look out the window. That’s when the strangeness of it all hit me, and I started to feel a little awkward. I wanted to get back

55 in control of the situation. Trying to be subtle, I looked him over. I noticed some scarring on his hands, and a small gash on his cheek. Suddenly, he turned and looked 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 I felt. 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 seems pretty reliable. Do you use it a lot?” Silence. My cheery voice sounded out of place. Other people were starting to stare at me. This time I gave up and turned my

70 head toward the front of the bus, trying to ignore the thirteen-year-old staring me down… again. I opened my cell phone to check the time and saw that only two minutes had passed. This was going to be the longest bus ride ever.

75 Then a thin voice cut through the silence. “I’m Jaime.” My heart skipped a beat. Could it be that my silence was the catalyst for this small victory? By allowing Jaime the room that silence allows to make

80 his own decision about talking to me, I had made a connection. Suddenly, I knew that my long held opinion of silence was forever changed.