Question
The Last Wave - Part One
1 As I sit on the cool sand, the waning sun dips below the horizon, painting the water orange and red. Seagulls scream overhead, and fishermen chug away from the island with running lights on, ready to catch more meals for the hungry tourists. My aching muscles slowly relax, and, without moving my head, I cut my eyes towards my brother, who is splayed out next to me on the sand, breathing heavily and staring blankly at the sky above. Exhausted, he occasionally blows ocean water from his nostrils. He saved us today, but he doesn’t want to talk about it. He doesn’t want to be a hero. All he wants to do is lie here on the sand and recover.
2 A full year ago, we began planning for this day. Every summer for the last ten years, my family has made the trip to one of Georgia’s exquisite barrier islands. During the daytime, we raced rusty bikes, built elaborate sand castles, and body surfed, and we spent our evenings with our flashlights walking the beach looking for sea turtles, sea glass, delicate shells, and other treasures. My brother Josh, a high school linebacker, always took great pleasure in tackling me during these outings as I was so much smaller than he. We were brothers, but rarely were we friends.
3 Last summer had been a bit different when my brother and I had become mesmerized by the sandbar that seemed to magically rise from the sea during low tide across the channel from our hotel. We imagined ourselves braving the channel to arrive on our own private island with its teeming tide pools and dazzling sand, once completely hidden under the water. We became more and more interested in the sandbar, but my parents warned us that the channel was too deep and too cold to swim across, so we devised a plan. Next year, we determined, we would do it—we would bring our raft and cross the channel to that tantalizing stretch of sand.
4 At last, this summer’s vacation had arrived, and, in addition to our usual beach umbrellas, coolers, and chairs, we jammed in our deflated raft, the paddles, and life vests into the back of our car. On the long drive, I thought about the excitement awaiting us and imagined in vivid detail our exploration of the sandbar. My brother seemed to read my mind as he gave me a wink, an unspoken promise that we would have the time of our lives on this vacation. At last, we were partners instead of rivals.
5 The first morning of our vacation was sunny and warm, with a strong breeze blowing up the coast. Because it was still high tide, we spent our time preparing for the adventure. After filling the raft with air, we grabbed the paddles, carried the raft down to the water’s edge, and waited impatiently. At last, the tide began to roll out, so we clicked our life vests and cinched the straps for a tight fit. Last night, when we finally told our parents about our plans, Mom had a tense discussion with Dad; however, she reluctantly gave us permission to complete our mission.
6 Rowing with strong, sure strokes, we rode with the tide toward the sandbar. The cold water was murky, but I could make out the shape of fish, big and small, dipping and diving in their watery world. Since I could see frightening shadows moving under the water, I was glad we had the raft to protect us. Within fifteen minutes, we had grounded on the sandbar and were ready to explore.
7 Countless tidal pools were left on the sandbar as the tide receded. Stingrays and small fish darted around in the shallow pools. We found shells and crabs and watched the seagulls dive and plunder. We laughed, cooled off in the ocean, and had water battles. I couldn’t remember ever having more fun with my big brother, and for once, he didn’t make fun of my smaller size or my lack of muscle. I tried to capture every sound, sight, and feeling of this day, but suddenly, we realized the tide had begun to rise, about to claim our private world.
Multiple Choice Question
Which sentences from the text help to hold readers in suspense?
He saved us today, but he doesn’t want to talk about it. He doesn’t want to be a hero.
My brother seemed to read my mind as he gave me a wink, an unspoken promise that we would have the time of our lives on this vacation. At last, we were partners instead of rivals.
The first morning of our vacation was sunny and warm, with a strong breeze blowing up the coast. Because it was still high tide, we spent our time preparing for the adventure.
Stingrays and small fish darted around in the shallow pools. We found shells and crabs and watched the seagulls dive and plunder.
1 As I sit on the cool sand, the waning sun dips below the horizon, painting the water orange and red. Seagulls scream overhead, and fishermen chug away from the island with running lights on, ready to catch more meals for the hungry tourists. My aching muscles slowly relax, and, without moving my head, I cut my eyes towards my brother, who is splayed out next to me on the sand, breathing heavily and staring blankly at the sky above. Exhausted, he occasionally blows ocean water from his nostrils. He saved us today, but he doesn’t want to talk about it. He doesn’t want to be a hero. All he wants to do is lie here on the sand and recover.
2 A full year ago, we began planning for this day. Every summer for the last ten years, my family has made the trip to one of Georgia’s exquisite barrier islands. During the daytime, we raced rusty bikes, built elaborate sand castles, and body surfed, and we spent our evenings with our flashlights walking the beach looking for sea turtles, sea glass, delicate shells, and other treasures. My brother Josh, a high school linebacker, always took great pleasure in tackling me during these outings as I was so much smaller than he. We were brothers, but rarely were we friends.
3 Last summer had been a bit different when my brother and I had become mesmerized by the sandbar that seemed to magically rise from the sea during low tide across the channel from our hotel. We imagined ourselves braving the channel to arrive on our own private island with its teeming tide pools and dazzling sand, once completely hidden under the water. We became more and more interested in the sandbar, but my parents warned us that the channel was too deep and too cold to swim across, so we devised a plan. Next year, we determined, we would do it—we would bring our raft and cross the channel to that tantalizing stretch of sand.
4 At last, this summer’s vacation had arrived, and, in addition to our usual beach umbrellas, coolers, and chairs, we jammed in our deflated raft, the paddles, and life vests into the back of our car. On the long drive, I thought about the excitement awaiting us and imagined in vivid detail our exploration of the sandbar. My brother seemed to read my mind as he gave me a wink, an unspoken promise that we would have the time of our lives on this vacation. At last, we were partners instead of rivals.
5 The first morning of our vacation was sunny and warm, with a strong breeze blowing up the coast. Because it was still high tide, we spent our time preparing for the adventure. After filling the raft with air, we grabbed the paddles, carried the raft down to the water’s edge, and waited impatiently. At last, the tide began to roll out, so we clicked our life vests and cinched the straps for a tight fit. Last night, when we finally told our parents about our plans, Mom had a tense discussion with Dad; however, she reluctantly gave us permission to complete our mission.
6 Rowing with strong, sure strokes, we rode with the tide toward the sandbar. The cold water was murky, but I could make out the shape of fish, big and small, dipping and diving in their watery world. Since I could see frightening shadows moving under the water, I was glad we had the raft to protect us. Within fifteen minutes, we had grounded on the sandbar and were ready to explore.
7 Countless tidal pools were left on the sandbar as the tide receded. Stingrays and small fish darted around in the shallow pools. We found shells and crabs and watched the seagulls dive and plunder. We laughed, cooled off in the ocean, and had water battles. I couldn’t remember ever having more fun with my big brother, and for once, he didn’t make fun of my smaller size or my lack of muscle. I tried to capture every sound, sight, and feeling of this day, but suddenly, we realized the tide had begun to rise, about to claim our private world.
Multiple Choice Question
Which sentences from the text help to hold readers in suspense?
He saved us today, but he doesn’t want to talk about it. He doesn’t want to be a hero.
My brother seemed to read my mind as he gave me a wink, an unspoken promise that we would have the time of our lives on this vacation. At last, we were partners instead of rivals.
The first morning of our vacation was sunny and warm, with a strong breeze blowing up the coast. Because it was still high tide, we spent our time preparing for the adventure.
Stingrays and small fish darted around in the shallow pools. We found shells and crabs and watched the seagulls dive and plunder.
Answers
GPT-4o mini
The sentences that help to hold readers in suspense are:
**"He saved us today, but he doesn’t want to talk about it. He doesn’t want to be a hero."**
These sentences create an air of mystery and anticipation by hinting at a significant event that took place, leaving readers curious about what happened and why the brother feels this way.
The other sentences provide context and describe joyful experiences but do not build suspense in the same way.
**"He saved us today, but he doesn’t want to talk about it. He doesn’t want to be a hero."**
These sentences create an air of mystery and anticipation by hinting at a significant event that took place, leaving readers curious about what happened and why the brother feels this way.
The other sentences provide context and describe joyful experiences but do not build suspense in the same way.