Determine and Analyze Theme Practice Test

Read the passage, then answer the question.

The town of Briar Hollow sat in a bowl of hills, where sound carried. Secrets carried too.

Jun knew this because his mother worked at the bakery, and flour wasn’t the only thing that drifted home on her clothes. “Mrs. Pell’s son got suspended,” she’d say, tying her apron. “Don’t repeat it.” But Jun always repeated things—to his friends, to feel important, to prove he knew more.

When the science fair list went up, Jun found his name next to “Partner: Lila Hart.” Lila was quiet, the kind of quiet that made teachers speak gently and classmates lean closer.

They met in the library. Lila brought a notebook filled with neat diagrams. Jun brought a bag of chips and a story.

“Did you hear Coach Vance might get fired?” Jun whispered.

Lila’s pencil stopped. “No. Where did you hear that?”

Jun shrugged. “Everyone’s talking.”

The next day the hallway buzzed. Coach Vance’s face looked older. His whistle hung unused. Jun felt a brief sting, then told himself it wasn’t his fault; he only said what others said.

At their next meeting, Lila pushed her notebook toward him. “We’re doing the water filter project,” she said. “But I need to know something first.”

Jun tried to grin. “What?”

“Can you keep information to yourself?” Her voice wasn’t angry, just steady. “Because if you can’t, I can’t trust you with the data. Or anything.”

Jun’s mouth went dry. He thought of Briar Hollow, how words rolled down hills like marbles—easy to drop, impossible to catch.

“I can,” he said, but it came out thin.

Lila didn’t argue. She simply slid a page across the table. At the top she’d written in bold: TRUST IS A FILTER.

For the next two weeks, Jun practiced silence like it was a new sport. When his friends tried to trade rumors, he shrugged and changed the subject. It felt like holding a sneeze.

On fair day, their filter ran clear. The judges smiled. Coach Vance stopped by their booth and said, “Good work, you two.” His eyes met Jun’s for a moment, and Jun looked away, ashamed and relieved at once.

Question: Which statement best describes how Jun’s actions relate to the theme?

Read the passage, then answer the question.

Mina kept the key on a string under her shirt, where it warmed against her skin. It was the only key to the old community greenhouse, and she liked the weight of it—proof that Ms. Dorsey trusted her to open up after school.

On the first chilly Monday of March, Mina arrived early and turned the lock with a small, private thrill. Inside, the air smelled like wet soil and tomato vines. Condensation beaded on the glass. She walked the rows, checking the seedlings like a supervisor, not a helper.

When Eli pushed through the door, his cheeks red from the wind, Mina didn’t look up. “You’re late,” she said, though he wasn’t.

“Bus was slow,” Eli replied. He set down a paper bag. “I brought seed packets. Ms. Dorsey said we could start beans.”

Mina frowned. “We don’t need those. We already have a plan.” She pointed to the tray she’d labeled in thick marker: MINA—BASIL. MINA—PEPPERS. MINA—MARIGOLDS.

Eli’s eyes moved over the labels. “Where do I—”

“Maybe you can water,” Mina said, as if handing him a mop.

For a week, Mina guarded the key and the clipboard. She corrected Eli’s spacing, his handwriting, his questions. The greenhouse stayed cold at the corners, drafty where a window didn’t quite shut.

On Friday, a sudden late frost hit. Mina forgot to close the vent before leaving for orchestra rehearsal. By morning, several trays lay limp, leaves darkened like bruises.

Eli stood in the doorway, silent. Mina’s stomach tightened. “It wasn’t—” she began.

“It’s okay,” Eli said, but his voice was flat. He lifted one tray and set it gently aside. “We can replant. If we work together.”

Mina stared at the ruined labels—her name everywhere, as if it could keep plants alive. She pulled the key from under her shirt and held it out. “Here,” she said. “You open up on Mondays too.”

Eli hesitated, then took it. The metal looked different in his hand—less like a trophy.

That afternoon, they rewrote the labels: BASIL—MINA & ELI. BEANS—ELI & MINA. They taped the vent handle with a bright note: CLOSE ME.

As they worked, the greenhouse warmed, not because the sun changed, but because Mina stopped standing alone at the door.

Question: Which statement best expresses the theme of the passage?