2018年3月SAT亚太考试内容回顾阅读一

 　　新东方在线SAT频道为大家带来2018年3月SAT亚太考试内容回顾阅读一一文，希望对大家SAT备考有所帮助。更多精彩尽请关注新东方在线SAT频道!

　　第一篇：文学小说

　　讲的是一个黑人小女孩搬家到一个大城市，在火车站台和她妈妈走散了，就自己出了站台，然后发现一个黑人买花时候把花车打翻了还是啥的，但是很淡定的赔钱，没有溜得很快…小女孩就发现这里似乎没有种族歧视...她爱上了这个地方。

　　原文：

　　THIRTY-TWO HOURS AFTER Hattie and her mother and sisters creptthrough the Georgia woods to thetrain station, thirty-two hours on hard seatsin the commotion of the Negro car, Hattie wasstartled from a light sleep by thetrain conductor’s bellow, “Broad StreetStation,Philadelphia!” Hattie clambered from the train,her skirt still hemmed with Georgia mud, thedream of Philadelphia round as amarble in her mouth and the fear of it a needle in her chest.Hattie and Mama,Pearl and Marion climbed the steps from the train platform up into the mainhallof the station. It was dim despite the midday sun. The domed roof arched.Pigeons cooed inthe rafters. Hattie was only fourteen then, slim as a finger.She stood with her mother andsisters at the crowd’sedge, the four of them waiting for a break in the flow of people sothey toomight move toward the double doors at the far end of the station. Hattiestepped intothe multitude. Mama called, “Come back! You’ll be lost in all those people. You’ll belost!” Hattie looked back in panic; she thought her mother was rightbehind her. The crowd wastoo thick for her to turn back, and she was bornealong on the current of people. She gainedthe double doors and was pushed outonto a long sidewalk that ran the length of the station.

　　The main thoroughfare was congested with more people than Hattiehad ever seen in one place.The sun was high. Automobile exhaust hung in the airalongside the tar smell of asphaltsoftening in the heat and the sickening odorof garbage rotting. Wheels rumbled on the pavingstones, engines revved,paperboys called the headlines. Across the street a man in dirtyclothes stoodon the corner wailing a song, his hands at his sides, palms upturned.Hattieresisted the urge to cover her ears to block the rushing city sounds. Shesmelled the absenceof trees before she saw it. Things were bigger inPhiladelphia—that was true—and therewasmore of everything, too much of everything. But Hattie did not see apromised land in thistumult. It was, she thought, only Atlanta on a largerscale. She could manage it. But even asshe declared herself adequate to thecity, her knees knocked under her skirt and sweat rolleddown her back. Ahundred people had passed her in the few moments she’dbeen standing outside,but none of them were her mother and sisters. Hattie’s eyes hurt with the effort of scanningthe faces of the passersby.

　　A cart at the end of the sidewalk caught her eye. Hattie had neverseen a flower vendor’scart. A white man sat on a stool with hisshirtsleeves rolled and his hat tipped forwardagainst the sun. Hattie set hersatchel on the sidewalk and wiped her sweaty palms on herskirt. A Negro womanapproached the cart. She indicated a bunch of flowers. The white manstood—he did not hesitate, his body didn’t contortinto a posture of menace—and took theflowers from abucket. Before wrapping them in paper, he shook the water gently from thestems.The Negro woman handed him the money. Had their hands brushed?

　　As the woman with the flowers took her change and moved to put itin her purse, she upset threeof the flower arrangements. Vases and blossomstumbled from the cart and crashed on to thepavement. Hattie stiffened, waitingfor the inevitable explosion. She waited for the otherNegroes to step back andaway from the object of the violence that was surely coming. Shewaited for themoment in which she would have to shield her eyes from the woman andwhateverhorror would ensue. The vendor stooped to pick up the mess. The Negrowoman gestured

　　apologetically and reached into her purse again, presumably to payfor what she’d damaged. Ina couple of minutes it was allsettled, and the woman walked on down the street with her nosein the paper coneof flowers, as if nothing had happened.

　　Hattie looked more closely at the crowd on the sidewalk. TheNegroes did not step into thegutters to let the whites pass and they did notstare doggedly at their own feet. Four Negrogirls walked by, teenagers likeHattie, chatting to one another. Just girls in conversation,giggling and easy,the way only white girls walked and talked in the city streets ofGeorgia.Hattie leaned forward to watch them progress down the block. At last,her mother and sistersexited the station and came to stand next to her. “Mama,” Hattie said. “I’llnever go back.Never.”