AQA GCSE English Language 8700/1 - Explorations in creative ...

Mark Scheme

Introduction

The information provided for each question is intended to be a guide to the kind of answers anticipated and is neither exhaustive nor prescriptive. All appropriate responses should be given credit.

Level of response marking instructions

Level of response mark schemes are broken down into four levels (where appropriate). Read through the student's answer and annotate it (as instructed) to show the qualities that are being looked for. You can then award a mark.

You should refer to the standardising material throughout your marking. The Indicative Standard is not intended to be a model answer nor a complete response, and it does not exemplify required content. It is an indication of the quality of response that is typical for each level and shows progression from Level 1 to 4.

Step 1 Determine a level

Start at the lowest level of the mark scheme and use it as a ladder to see whether the answer meets the descriptors for that level. If it meets the lowest level then go to the next one and decide if it meets this level, and so on, until you have a match between the level descriptor and the answer. With practice and familiarity you will be able to quickly skip through the lower levels for better answers. The Indicative Standard column in the mark scheme will help you determine the correct level.

Step 2 Determine a mark

Once you have assigned a level you need to decide on the mark. Balance the range of skills achieved; allow strong performance in some aspects to compensate for others only partially fulfilled. Refer to the standardising scripts to compare standards and allocate a mark accordingly. Re-read as needed to assure yourself that the level and mark are appropriate. An answer which contains nothing of relevance must be awarded no marks.

Advice for Examiners

In fairness to students, all examiners must use the same marking methods.

1. Refer constantly to the mark scheme and standardising scripts throughout the marking period.
2. Always credit accurate, relevant and appropriate responses that are not necessarily covered by the mark scheme or the standardising scripts.
3. Use the full range of marks. Do not hesitate to give full marks if the response merits it.
4. Remember the key to accurate and fair marking is consistency.
5. If you have any doubt about how to allocate marks to a response, consult your Team Leader.

SECTION A: READING - Assessment Objectives

AO1

• Identify and interpret explicit and implicit information and ideas.
• Select and synthesise evidence from different texts.

AO2

• Explain, comment on and analyse how writers use language and structure to achieve effects and influence readers, using relevant subject terminology to support their views.

AO3

• Compare writers' ideas and perspectives, as well as how these are conveyed, across two or more texts.

AO4

• Evaluate texts critically and support this with appropriate textual references.

SECTION B: WRITING - Assessment Objectives

AO5 (Writing: Content and Organisation)

• Communicate clearly, effectively and imaginatively, selecting and adapting tone, style and register for different forms, purposes and audiences.
• Organise information and ideas, using structural and grammatical features to support coherence and cohesion of texts.

AO6

• Candidates must use a range of vocabulary and sentence structures for clarity, purpose and effect, with accurate spelling and punctuation. (This requirement must constitute 20% of the marks for each specification as a whole).

Answers

Question 1 - Mark Scheme

Read again the first part of the source, from lines 1 to 9. Answer all parts of this question. Choose one answer for each. [4 marks]

Assessment focus (AO1): Identify and interpret explicit and implicit information and ideas. This assesses bullet point 1 (identify and interpret explicit and implicit information and ideas).

• 1.1 According to the narrator, how often did this occur?: On several occasions – 1 mark
• 1.2 According to the narrator, what was Carrie actually doing when Drouet believed Carrie was admiring Carrie's appearance?: Remembering a small detail of another person's facial expression – 1 mark
• 1.3 At those moments when Drouet misreads Carrie’s behaviour, what is Carrie actually doing?: Carrie is remembering a small feature from another person's expression. – 1 mark
• 1.4 What was Carrie actually doing when Drouet assumed Carrie was admiring herself at a mirror?: Remembering a small facial detail Carrie had noticed on someone else – 1 mark

Question 2 - Mark Scheme

Look in detail at this extract, from lines 16 to 25 of the source:

16 lies the basis of all dramatic art. Now, when Carrie heard Drouet’s laudatory opinion of her dramatic ability, her body tingled with satisfaction. Like the flame which welds

21 the loosened particles into a solid mass, his words united those floating wisps of feeling which she had felt, but never believed, concerning her possible ability, and made them into a gaudy shred of hope.

How does the writer use language here to present Carrie’s reaction to Drouet’s praise? You could include the writer’s choice of:

• words and phrases
• language features and techniques
• sentence forms.

[8 marks]

Question 2 (AO2) – Language Analysis (8 marks)

Explain, comment on and analyse how writers use language and structure to achieve effects and influence readers, using relevant subject terminology to support their views. This question assesses language (words, phrases, features, techniques, sentence forms).

Level 4 (Perceptive, detailed analysis) – 7–8 marks Shows perceptive and detailed understanding of language: analyses effects of choices; selects judicious detail; sophisticated and accurate terminology. Indicative Standard: The writer presents Carrie’s reaction as a visceral ignition and forging of self-belief, triggered by Drouet’s laudatory opinion: the tactile verb tingled with satisfaction conveys instant bodily thrill, while the simile Like the flame which welds the loosened particles into a solid mass and sustained industrial/heat imagery show his praise consolidating her previously floating wisps of feeling. The long, cumulative sentence builds to a gaudy shred of hope, whose flashy adjective and diminutive noun imply that her newfound ambition is enticing yet fragile.

The writer immediately renders Carrie’s response as bodily and involuntary through tactile and kinaesthetic imagery. The polysyllabic, formal “laudatory opinion” elevates Drouet’s praise, and “her body tingled with satisfaction” externalises an internal emotion; the verb “tingled” suggests a sudden, electric current of pleasure, implying how novel and intoxicating the compliment feels. This somatic reaction positions the reader inside her nervous system and foregrounds the power of external validation.

Moreover, the extended simile “Like the flame which welds the loosened particles into a solid mass” frames his words as a catalytic heat. The semantic field of metallurgy—“flame,” “welds,” “particles,” “solid mass”—converts vague self-perceptions into something cohesive. Through subtle personification, “his words united” endows language with agency, binding “floating wisps of feeling”—a metaphor that visualises her self-belief as insubstantial vapour—into form. The cumulative syntax of the long, complex sentence mirrors this coalescence, accruing clauses until confidence consolidates.

Additionally, the climactic clause “made them into a gaudy shred of hope” complicates the transformation. The paradoxical collocation of “gaudy” with the diminutive “shred” fuses brightness with fragility, suggesting that while her hope is dazzling, it is also flimsy, easily torn. Ending on the abstract noun “hope” foregrounds the emotional outcome of praise, yet the qualifier hints at its precariousness. Thus, the writer presents Carrie’s reaction as at once thrillingly physical and powerfully transformative, but tinged with the vulnerability of a confidence built on someone else’s admiration.

Level 3 (Clear, relevant explanation) – 5–6 marks Shows clear understanding; explains effects; relevant detail; clear and accurate terminology. Indicative Standard: A Level 3 response would clearly explain how sensory detail and figurative language present Carrie’s elated reaction: the sensory phrase "her body tingled with satisfaction" shows a physical surge of pleasure, while the simile "Like the flame which welds the loosened particles into a solid mass" and image "floating wisps of feeling" show Drouet’s praise forging vague emotions into confidence. It would also comment on diction and structure, noting the formal "laudatory opinion" and the metaphor "a gaudy shred of hope" suggesting hope that is vivid but small or superficial, and how the long, cumulative sentence mirrors her feelings being drawn together.

The writer uses sensory, emotive language to present Carrie’s immediate response. The phrase “her body tingled with satisfaction” shows a physical thrill, suggesting that Drouet’s “laudatory” praise instantly pleases her and makes her excitement palpable to the reader.

Furthermore, the simile “Like the flame which welds the loosened particles into a solid mass” presents his words as a powerful heat. The verb “welds” implies forging and strength, so the praise draws together her scattered feelings and strengthens her confidence.

Moreover, metaphor is used to show the change in her self-belief. The “floating wisps of feeling” implies her ideas were insubstantial and uncertain, but they are “united” and turned into “a gaudy shred of hope.” The adjective “gaudy” suggests something showy or bright, while “shred” hints it is still small and fragile, so her hope is vivid but not fully secure.

Additionally, the long, complex sentence that piles up clauses mirrors the process it describes, as her thoughts are gathered and changed by his praise. Overall, these choices clearly present Carrie’s reaction as physically thrilled and newly hopeful, while hinting that her confidence may be flashy but delicate.

Level 2 (Some understanding and comment) – 3–4 marks Attempts to comment on effects; some appropriate detail; some use of terminology. Indicative Standard: Words like tingled with satisfaction and laudatory opinion show Carrie is pleased by the praise and even feels it physically. The simile Like the flame which welds the loosened particles into a solid mass and images such as floating wisps of feeling and gaudy shred of hope show her scattered feelings coming together into hope, with the long, flowing sentence building this change.

The writer uses sensory language to present Carrie’s reaction to Drouet’s praise. The phrase “her body tingled with satisfaction” shows a physical, excited response, so the praise immediately pleases her.

Moreover, the simile “Like the flame which welds...” compares his words to heat joining metal. This and the metaphor “floating wisps of feeling” suggest her past doubts were weak, but the praise makes them “a solid mass” of confidence.

Additionally, the noun phrase “a gaudy shred of hope” uses the adjective “gaudy” and the noun “shred” to show her hope is bright but small, hinting it may be showy or fragile.

Furthermore, the long, flowing sentence that joins clauses with “and” mirrors how his praise gradually gathers her feelings together.

Finally, the word “laudatory” shows his praise is strong and approving, which explains why her feelings shift from uncertainty to a hopeful reaction.

Level 1 (Simple, limited comment) – 1–2 marks Simple awareness; simple comment; simple references; simple terminology. Indicative Standard: The writer shows Carrie is pleased using the phrase "her body tingled with satisfaction". The simile "Like the flame which welds" and words like "floating wisps of feeling" and "gaudy shred of hope" simply show his praise brings her feelings together and gives her some hope.

The writer uses language to show Carrie is pleased by Drouet’s praise. The phrase "her body tingled with satisfaction" uses the verb "tingled" to show she feels excited and happy. Furthermore, the simile "Like the flame which welds... into a solid mass" shows his words bring her feelings together. Moreover, the metaphor "floating wisps of feeling" makes her feelings seem light and unsure. Additionally, the adjective "gaudy" in "gaudy shred of hope" makes her hope seem bright but small. The long sentence also shows her reaction building up.

Level 0 – No marks: Nothing to reward.

AO2 content may include the effects of language features such as:

• Elevated generalisation positions Carrie’s response as artistically significant, framing her awakening within a larger aesthetic claim (basis of all dramatic art)
• Sensory verb makes her pleasure visceral and immediate, physicalising emotion (tingled with satisfaction)
• Formal diction for praise stresses authoritative validation shaping her self-view (laudatory opinion)
• Simile of intense heat/welding conveys praise as a force that fuses uncertainty into conviction (Like the flame)
• Metaphor of insubstantiality casts prior feelings as airy and doubtful, heightening the contrast with new solidity (floating wisps of feeling)
• Dynamic verb choice gives Drouet’s speech agency, actively reshaping her inner state (his words united)
• Hedging of capability signals lingering self-doubt even amid affirmation (possible ability)
• Evaluative adjective suggests flashy, possibly superficial allure, complicating the positivity of her new feeling (gaudy)
• Noun metaphor reduces hope to something small and fragile, stressing its tenuousness (shred of hope)
• Long, cumulative syntax mirrors the gradual consolidation of emotion, building to a transformed outlook (made them into)

Question 3 - Mark Scheme

You now need to think about the structure of the source as a whole. This text is from the beginning of a novel.

How has the writer structured the text to create a sense of yearning?

You could write about:

• how yearning intensifies throughout the source
• how the writer uses structure to create an effect
• the writer's use of any other structural features, such as changes in mood, tone or perspective. [8 marks]

Question 3 (AO2) – Structural Analysis (8 marks)

Assesses structure (pivotal point, juxtaposition, flashback, focus shifts, mood/tone, contrast, narrative pace, etc.).

Level 4 (Perceptive, detailed analysis) – 7–8 marks Analyses effects of structural choices; judicious examples; sophisticated terminology. Indicative Standard: A Level 4 response would track an intensifying arc of longing shaped by structural shifts: Drouet’s praise sparks Carrie’s imagination (Like the flame into a gaudy shred of hope), cumulative listing (the glamour, the tense situation, the fine clothes, the applause) and metaphors (fifty cents to a thousand dollars, a returning tide) build momentum, while temporal/focal pivots (When Drouet was gone, As she rocked to and fro) deepen interior yearning. It would also note the pivot from omniscient framing (basis of all dramatic art) and private reverie to a scene-cut of pragmatic dialogue, where a fabricated identity (Carrie Madenda) and concrete action (He took the part home) materialise her desire, heightening it even as the cutaway underlines its precariousness.

One way in which the writer has structured the text to create yearning is by opening with a generalized, authorial exposition that narrows into Carrie’s immediate awakening. The omniscient voice frames her mimicking as “the first subtle outcroppings… of an artistic nature,” and even asserts, “be it known… lies the basis of all dramatic art.” This general-to-specific movement legitimises desire before we move, via the temporal deictic “Now, when Carrie heard…,” to the inciting stimulus of praise. The anaphoric “Now… Now…” modulates narrative pace and signals a quickening of appetite, so that Drouet’s remark welds “floating wisps” into a “gaudy shred of hope”—a structural ignition point that converts vague inclination into purposeful longing.

In addition, the writer intensifies yearning through a deliberate withdrawal into interiority once the catalyst exits: “When Drouet was gone, she sat down… to think.” This shift in focus from social scene to solitary vantage creates a sustained interior sequence. The rocking-chair provides static mise-en-scène while her imagination accelerates; a cumulative catalogue (“the glamour, the tense situation, the fine clothes, the applause”) and incremental patterning (“she saw… she felt… she…”) create a structural crescendo. Temporal elasticity—turning “fifty cents” into “a thousand dollars”—enacts enlargement over time, while the ebb-and-flow image, “as a returning tide,” forms a cyclical motif that keeps longing surging back, deepening rather than satisfying it.

A further structural feature is the switch to the pragmatic, dialogue-led lodge scene. This change of scene and shift in register to clipped exchanges (“I’ve got her.” “What’s her address?”) slows fulfilment by interposing procedural detail, a deliberate delay that sustains anticipation. Yet the sequence also externalises yearning into concrete action (the part is fetched), culminating in end-focus on naming—“Carrie Madenda.” This nominal transformation foreshadows a new persona, offering a tantalising near-resolution that propels the desire forward.

Level 3 (Clear, relevant explanation) – 5–6 marks Explains effects; relevant examples; clear terminology. Indicative Standard: Yearning is structured to build from inner reflection to outward action: the narrator begins with Carrie’s inward focus where Drouet’s praise makes her “tingled with satisfaction” and gives a “gaudy shred of hope”, then shifts in time and focus (e.g., “When Drouet was gone”, “As she rocked”) to extended imagining—a “score of pathetic situations”, a “returning tide”. The pace quickens into dialogue as the concrete “part”/“best part” arrives, changing the mood from dreamy aspiration to anxious “misgivings”, so her desire feels intensified and suddenly within reach.

One way in which the writer has structured the text to create yearning is through an opening overview that narrows to Carrie's inner focus. The narrative begins with a general account of her 'artistic nature' before zooming to her bodily response - 'her body tingled' - after Drouet's praise. This sequence charts desire growing from commentary into a 'gaudy shred of hope', creating gradual escalation rather than fulfilment.

In addition, the writer increases yearning through cumulative listing and repetition and a change of focus to private reverie. The list 'the glamour, the tense situation, the fine clothes, the applause' and the echo 'she, too, could act' build intensity. When Drouet leaves, focus shifts to Carrie 'in her rocking-chair by the window'; this domestic frame slows the pace, allowing extended imagining - 'a returning tide' - so desire swells but remains unreal.

A further structural feature is the juxtaposition of her fantasies with a brisk, dialogue-led scene at the lodge. This shift in perspective and quicker pace makes the dream tangible - 'He took the part home' - yet ending on Carrie's 'I'm afraid' withholds resolution. By delaying outcome and bestowing a stage name, 'Carrie Madenda', the writer sustains anticipation, so the sense of yearning persists beyond the extract.

Level 2 (Some understanding and comment) – 3–4 marks Attempts to comment; some examples; some terminology. Indicative Standard: A Level 2 response would identify that the writer starts with Carrie’s inner thoughts and praise that make her body tingled and give a gaudy shred of hope, then builds the yearning with a list — “The glamour, the tense situation, the fine clothes, the applause” — and a big comparison from “fifty cents” to “a thousand dollars.” It would also notice a shift to action and dialogue about “her part” and “programmes,” with time markers like “When Drouet was gone” and “Now,” making her wish feel more real.

One way the writer structures yearning is by beginning with Carrie’s private thoughts and praise, which spark desire. The opening focuses on her inner feelings, “tingled with satisfaction,” turning them into a “gaudy shred of hope.”

In addition, the middle slows into imagined scenes. From the rocking-chair, the text lists a “score of pathetic situations” and being the “cynosure of all eyes.” This listing and the “returning tide” image intensify the longing.

A further structural move is a scene change to the lodge and dialogue. The external action (getting the part, a new name “Carrie Madenda”) contrasts with earlier dreaming. But the end circles back to doubt — “I’m afraid” — so the wanting is not resolved, keeping the desire alive for the reader.

Level 1 (Simple, limited comment) – 1–2 marks Simple awareness; simple references; simple terminology. Indicative Standard: - At the start Carrie is in the mirror with the first subtle outcroppings of an artistic nature, then her desire grows as she thinks she, too, could act and holds a gaudy shred of hope while imagination exaggerated the possibilities. Finally it shifts to dialogue and action when He took the part home, moving from thoughts to events to make the yearning feel more real.

One way the writer has structured the text to create yearning is by starting with Carrie’s thoughts. She imagines the stage with a list, 'the glamour... the applause', then 'now she was told', her wanting grows.

In addition, a shift in focus. Time markers like 'When Drouet was gone' and 'Drouet dropped in' move from daydream to action. Dialogue with Quincel makes her hope feel closer.

A further structural feature is contrast at the end. She gets the part and a new name, 'Carrie Madenda', but says 'I’m afraid'. This change in mood shows the yearning is not finished.

Level 0 – No marks: Nothing to reward.

AO2 content may include the effect of structural features such as:

• Opening reframe from Drouet's misread vanity to nascent artistry seeds the longing arc; she studies others' beauty, recalling some little grace.
• Inciting praise fuses scattered inklings into a single ambition, intensifying desire in a sudden surge, gaudy shred of hope.
• Cumulative listing and anaphora build momentum toward acclaim, sharpening her wish to belong, she, too, could act.
• Temporal shift to solitude refocuses on interiority; after the stimulus, yearning expands unchecked, When Drouet was gone.
• Hyperbolic money simile inflates possibility beyond means, foregrounding the disproportion of wish to reality, a thousand dollars.
• Imagined role-montage escalates from pathos to status, centering the craving for attention, cynosure of all eyes.
• Kinetic rocking and tidal return create a cyclical swell of longing that comes back stronger, returning tide.
• Authorial check on excess desire heightens tension between dream and circumstance, built up feelings.
• Cutaway to the lodge pivots to practicalities; commitment signals (programmes) raise stakes and urgency, print the programmes.
• Closing dialogue balances hope with fear, keeping yearning unresolved yet alive, for all her misgivings.

Question 4 - Mark Scheme

For this question focus on the second part of the source, from line 16 to the end.

In this part of the source, where Carrie daydreams about being a famous actress, it seems to show how ambitious she is. The writer suggests that her dreams are unrealistic and she might be easily disappointed.

To what extent do you agree and/or disagree with this statement?

In your response, you could:

• consider your impressions of Carrie's ambitious daydreams about being an actress
• comment on the methods the writer uses to suggest her potential disappointment
• support your response with references to the text. [20 marks]

Question 4 (AO4) – Critical Evaluation (20 marks)

Evaluate texts critically and support with appropriate textual references.

Level 4 (Perceptive, detailed evaluation) – 16–20 marks Perceptive ideas; perceptive methods; critical detail on impact; judicious detail. Indicative Standard: A Level 4 response would critically evaluate that the writer presents Carrie’s ambition as inflated and fragile, analysing how ironic narration and metaphor—“As usual, imagination exaggerated the possibilities,” the leap from “fifty cents” to “a thousand dollars,” and the dismissive “gaudy shred of hope”/“the occasion did not warrant”—expose the unreality of her fantasies and foreshadow disappointment in “a delightful sensation while it lasted.” It would also show how Drouet’s casual manipulation—“firing at random” in a “cheap company”—undercuts her dream of being the “cynosure of all eyes,” signalling the author’s sceptical viewpoint.

I largely agree with the statement. The writer crafts Carrie as intensely ambitious, intoxicated by praise, yet steadily undercuts her fantasies to suggest they are inflated and precarious, leaving her susceptible to disappointment.

At the moment of flattery, the language foregrounds aspiration. Carrie’s ‘body tingled with satisfaction’, a sensory detail that signals how hungry she is for recognition. The simile ‘like the flame which welds’ implies her scattered impulses are forged into purpose; however, the metaphor is immediately qualified as ‘a gaudy shred of hope’. The adjective ‘gaudy’ connotes tawdry glitter, and ‘shred’ hints at fragility, so even the birth of her dream is tainted with insubstantiality. The asyndetic list—‘The glamour, the tense situation, the fine clothes, the applause’—emphasises that she is lured by spectacle rather than craft, revealing the nature of her ambition. The narrator’s voice, slipping close to Carrie’s own idiom in ‘she, too, could compel acknowledgment of power’, lets us feel her hunger for status, but the hedging, ‘It was a delightful sensation while it lasted’, foreshadows how quickly this elation may evaporate.

Once Drouet leaves, a structural pivot exposes the unreality of her visions. The authorial intrusion ‘As usual, imagination exaggerated the possibilities’ signals a habitual overreach. The money metaphor—‘fifty cents’ yielding ‘the thoughts of a thousand dollars’—neatly captures the inflation of expectation from a modest prompt. Her role-play is couched in melodramatic cliché: ‘tremulous voice’, ‘cynosure of all eyes’, ‘arbiter of all fates’. This hyperbole, along with the personification ‘Her mind delighted itself’, suggests self-pleasing fantasy rather than grounded ambition. The tidal metaphor—‘every illusion… came back as a returning tide’—presents her susceptibility as irresistible but uncritical. Crucially, the explicit judgment ‘She built up feelings and a determination which the occasion did not warrant’ nails the mismatch between dream and circumstance, priming the reader to anticipate disappointment.

The writer then punctures the reverie by juxtaposing it with the banal mechanics of the theatre world. Drouet ‘swash[es] around with a great air’, the comic verb and affected ‘air’ reducing him to puffed-up impresario. His invention of ‘Carrie Madenda’, ‘firing at random’, exposes the flimsiness of her new identity, while ‘It’s a cheap company’ deflates her imagined ‘luxury and refinement’. Carrie’s own uncertainty—‘I don’t know… I’m afraid’—counterpoints earlier bravado, suggesting emotional brittleness. Yet the text admits a glimmer of genuine promise—‘little things she had done… made even him feel her power’—so our judgment remains nuanced.

Overall, the writer presents Carrie as ambitiously enthralled by applause and glamour, but through ironic commentary, hyperbolic imagery and sharp tonal shifts, suggests her dreams are inflated and liable to founder against a cheap, careless reality. I mostly agree: her ambition is vivid but precarious, and disappointment feels more likely than triumph.

Level 3 (Clear, relevant evaluation) – 11–15 marks Clear ideas; clear methods; clear evaluation of impact; relevant references. Indicative Standard: A Level 3 response would typically agree that Carrie’s ambition is clear in fantasies of being the "cynosure of all eyes" and "the arbiter of all fates". It would also note the writer’s view that her dreams are unrealistic, using the simile "as if he had put fifty cents... a thousand dollars", the authorial judgement that she "built up feelings... which the occasion did not warrant", and dialogue where Drouet boasts "I’ve got her" and even invents "Carrie Madenda" to suggest likely disappointment.

I largely agree that Carrie’s daydreams reveal strong ambition, and the writer also hints that her hopes are inflated and likely to end in disappointment. From the outset, Drouet’s praise sparks a visceral response: her “body tingled with satisfaction.” The simile “like the flame which welds” and the metaphor “a gaudy shred of hope” show ambition being forged from vague feelings, but the adjective “gaudy” and noun “shred” suggest something flashy yet flimsy, implying her aspirations are unstable.

The writer then emphasises the unrealistic scale of her dreams through extended metaphor and hyperbole: “as if he had put fifty cents in her hand and she had exercised the thoughts of a thousand dollars.” This monetary image makes the disproportion clear. An asyndetic list—“The glamour, the tense situation, the fine clothes, the applause”—creates a semantic field of surface allure, while the elevated diction in “cynosure of all eyes, the arbiter of all fates” conveys grandiosity. Crucially, the narrator’s evaluative voice undercuts her fantasy: “It was a delightful sensation while it lasted” and she “built up feelings and a determination which the occasion did not warrant,” both signalling that her imagination outruns reality.

Structurally, the passage shifts from interior fantasy to the external mechanics of the theatre world. Drouet “swash[es] around with a great air,” and his casual invention of “Carrie Madenda,” “firing at random,” suggests a manufactured persona and a careless environment that could let her down. Direct speech reveals her fragility: “I’m afraid, now that I’ve said I would,” and she has “misgivings,” implying she may be easily shaken. Even Drouet’s reassurance—“It’s a cheap company”—highlights the gap between her visions of “luxury and refinement” and the modest reality.

Overall, I agree to a great extent: the writer portrays Carrie as intensely ambitious but frames her dreams as exaggerated and precarious, making future disappointment seem likely, even if the “best part” hints at genuine opportunity.

Level 2 (Some evaluation) – 6–10 marks Some understanding; some methods; some evaluative comments; some references. Indicative Standard: A Level 2 response would mostly agree, recognizing Carrie’s ambition but noting the writer shows it as unrealistic through simple examples like the simile 'as if he had put fifty cents in her hand and she had exercised the thoughts of a thousand dollars' and 'imagination exaggerated the possibilities', while hinting at likely disappointment with 'a delightful sensation while it lasted' and 'for all her misgivings'.

I mostly agree with the statement. Carrie’s daydreams show she is very ambitious, but the writer also hints that her hopes are exaggerated and could end in disappointment.

At first, the writer presents her excitement when Drouet praises her. Her “body tingled with satisfaction,” and the metaphor “a gaudy shred of hope” suggests something bright but flimsy. The simile “like the flame which welds” shows how his words suddenly join her “floating wisps of feeling” into confidence, but “gaudy” and “while it lasted” hint it may be short-lived.

As she sits alone, the narrator says “imagination exaggerated the possibilities,” which directly shows her unrealistic thinking. The money simile—“as if he had put fifty cents in her hand and she had exercised the thoughts of a thousand dollars”—clearly suggests she is overreaching. The list of attractions—“glamour… fine clothes, the applause”—and hyperbole like being the “cynosure of all eyes” and “arbiter of all fates” show her ambitious fantasies about fame. The line “she built up feelings and a determination which the occasion did not warrant” underlines that her confidence isn’t justified.

Later, the structure shifts to dialogue and practical matters, and this undercuts her dream. Drouet “swash[ed] around with a great air” and even invents her stage name “firing at random,” suggesting a shaky start. He admits it’s a “cheap company,” and Carrie says, “I’m afraid,” with “misgivings,” which implies she could be easily disappointed despite being “pleased to have the part.”

Overall, I agree that Carrie is ambitious, but the writer’s similes, hyperbole and contrasts suggest her dreams are unrealistic and may not match the reality she is about to face.

Level 1 (Simple, limited) – 1–5 marks Simple ideas; limited methods; simple evaluation; simple references. Indicative Standard: A Level 1 response would simply agree that the writer shows Carrie as ambitious, pointing to "she, too, could act" and wanting to be "the cynosure of all eyes." It would also say her dreams are unrealistic and may lead to disappointment, using basic references like "imagination exaggerated the possibilities" and "fifty cents... a thousand dollars."

I mostly agree with the statement. Carrie comes across as very ambitious. After Drouet praises her, “her body tingled with satisfaction,” and she thinks about “the glamour… the fine clothes, the applause.” This shows she wants the big stage and believes she “could compel acknowledgment of power.”

However, the writer also suggests her dreams are unrealistic. The simile “as if he had put fifty cents in her hand and she had exercised the thoughts of a thousand dollars” shows she is thinking far beyond what she has. The phrase “gaudy shred of hope” (with the negative adjective “gaudy”) makes her hope seem showy and weak. The image “the cynosure of all eyes” is very grand, which adds to the sense of exaggeration. The simile “like the flame which welds” shows how quickly Drouet’s words fix her ideas together.

There are hints she might be disappointed. The narrator says she “built up feelings… which the occasion did not warrant,” suggesting it isn’t real yet. She also says “I’m afraid” and has “misgivings,” while Drouet calls it a “cheap company.” He even gives her the name “Carrie Madenda” “firing at random,” which feels careless.

Overall, I agree: Carrie is ambitious, but her dreams seem unrealistic, so disappointment is likely.

Level 0 – No marks: Nothing to reward. Note: Reference to methods and explicit “I agree/I disagree” may be implicit and still credited according to quality.

AO4 content may include the evaluation of ideas and methods such as:

• Metaphor of showy but flimsy hope suggests ambition inflated by flattery and prone to collapse (gaudy shred of hope)
• List of stage allurements frames her dream as image-led rather than skill-based, hinting at naive ambition (the fine clothes, the applause)
• Authorial judgement of character roots her drive in self-regard, supporting scepticism about her lofty aims (a touch of vanity)
• Narrator’s critique of thinking habits shows a pattern of overreach, increasing the risk of let-down (imagination exaggerated the possibilities)
• Money metaphor magnifies a tiny prompt into vast expectations, underscoring unrealistic scaling of her hopes (the thoughts of a thousand dollars)
• Grandiose self-image signals fantasies of celebrity far beyond her reality, implying ambition outstrips circumstance (cynosure of all eyes)
• Direct assertion of disproportion marks a mismatch between mood and context, foreshadowing disappointment (the occasion did not warrant)
• Ephemeral thrill implies her confidence is transient and easily punctured by reality (while it lasted)
• Dialogue undercuts her glamorous vision with a blunt reality check about status and quality (a cheap company)
• Small, local validation offers limited grounding for hope, slightly moderating the claim of total unreality (little things she had done)

Question 5 - Mark Scheme

Your college coding club is inviting short creative pieces for its website showcase next month.

Choose one of the options below for your entry.

• Option A: Describe a community makerspace from your imagination. You may choose to use the picture provided for ideas:

• Option B: Write the opening of a story about a rumour spreading through a group chat.

(24 marks for content and organisation, 16 marks for technical accuracy) [40 marks]

(24 marks for content and organisation • 16 marks for technical accuracy) [40 marks]

Question 5 (AO5) – Content & Organisation (24 marks)

Communicate clearly, effectively and imaginatively; organise information and ideas to support coherence and cohesion. Levels and typical features follow AQA’s SAMs grid for descriptive/narrative writing. Use the Level 4 → Level 1 descriptors for content and organisation, distinguishing Upper/Lower bands within Levels 4–3–2.

• Level 4 (19–24 marks) Upper 22–24: Convincing and compelling; assured register; extensive and ambitious vocabulary; varied and inventive structure; compelling ideas; fluent paragraphing with seamless discourse markers.

Lower 19–21: Convincing; extensive vocabulary; varied and effective structure; highly engaging with developed complex ideas; consistently coherent paragraphs.

• Level 3 (13–18 marks) Upper 16–18: Consistently clear; register matched; increasingly sophisticated vocabulary and phrasing; effective structural features; engaging, clear connected ideas; coherent paragraphs with integrated markers.

Lower 13–15: Generally clear; vocabulary chosen for effect; usually effective structure; engaging with connected ideas; usually coherent paragraphs.

• Level 2 (7–12 marks) Upper 10–12: Some sustained success; some sustained matching of register/purpose; conscious vocabulary; some devices; some structural features; increasing variety of linked ideas; some paragraphs and markers.

Lower 7–9: Some success; attempts to match register/purpose; attempts to vary vocabulary; attempts structural features; some linked ideas; attempts at paragraphing with markers.

• Level 1 (1–6 marks) Upper 4–6: Simple communication; simple awareness of register/purpose; simple vocabulary/devices; evidence of simple structural features; one or two relevant ideas; random paragraphing.

Lower 1–3: Limited communication; occasional sense of audience/purpose; limited or no structural features; one or two unlinked ideas; no paragraphs.

Level 0: Nothing to reward. NB: If a candidate does not directly address the focus of the task, cap AO5 at 12 (top of Level 2).

Question 5 (AO6) – Technical Accuracy (16 marks)

Students must use a range of vocabulary and sentence structures for clarity, purpose and effect, with accurate spelling and punctuation.

• Level 4 (13–16): Consistently secure demarcation; wide range of punctuation with high accuracy; full range of sentence forms; secure Standard English and complex grammar; high accuracy in spelling, including ambitious vocabulary; extensive and ambitious vocabulary.

• Level 3 (9–12): Mostly secure demarcation; range of punctuation mostly successful; variety of sentence forms; mostly appropriate Standard English; generally accurate spelling including complex/irregular words; increasingly sophisticated vocabulary.

• Level 2 (5–8): Mostly secure demarcation (sometimes accurate); some control of punctuation range; attempts variety of sentence forms; some use of Standard English; some accurate spelling of more complex words; varied vocabulary.

• Level 1 (1–4): Occasional demarcation; some evidence of conscious punctuation; simple sentence forms; occasional Standard English; accurate basic spelling; simple vocabulary.

• Level 0: Spelling, punctuation, etc., are sufficiently poor to prevent understanding or meaning.

Model Answers

The following model answers demonstrate both AO5 (Content & Organisation) and AO6 (Technical Accuracy) at each level. Each response shows the expected standard for both assessment objectives.

• Level 4 Upper (22-24 marks for AO5, 13-16 marks for AO6, 35-40 marks total)

Option A:

The makerspace breathes. It inhales the crisp street air and exhales a warm, metallic tang; sunlight slants through the high windows in golden lattices, catching on floating sawdust and the filigree of plastic shavings. There is a thrum—soft, insistent—beneath everything: stepper motors ticking, a laser’s cooling fan sighing, the staccato click of keys. It is not quiet; it is careful. On the scarred benches (each plank a palimpsest of glue rings and pencil maths), clamps lie open like patient jaws, and measuring tapes coil and uncoil with a reptilian nonchalance.

At the far table, a girl with bitten nails steadies her breath and coaxes a stubborn circuit to glow; beside her, a man whose hair has gone to winter shows her how flux softens a joint, his hands mapping movements he has done a thousand times. Their voices are low, conspiratorial; when the LED flickers into certainty, she grins, and he allows himself a nod that is practically a cheer. Across the aisle, a woman in paint-splotched overalls unrolls blueprints, weighting their corners with mugs; one steams, the other holds a crescent wrench.

Tools hang on the pegboard in a grammar of silhouettes: hammers, chisels, calipers; a parade of hex keys nested like tuning forks. Drawers whisper their own cartography—M3 bolts, brass inserts, heat-shrink—while a soldering iron naps in its cradle, a thin breath of pine rosin curling from its tip. Beyond, the printers perform their patient choreography: a filament spool spins—quiet, inexorable—feeding a thread into a nozzle that writes in mid-air; layer by diaphanous layer, a small cathedral materialises, improbable and exact. The laser cutter watches from its amber window, sketching in light; the room smells, faintly, of toasted sugar and singed plywood.

There is a noticeboard by the door, barnacled with flyers and promises: Open Night; Bicycle Repair; Intro to CAD; Bring-Your-Own Broken Thing. A jam jar labelled ‘pay what you can’ is heavy with coins. On a shelf lives the Museum of Tries—misprints, test cuts, a gear with one awkward tooth; failures catalogued with a generosity that feels like courage. Nothing here is wasted but ego. On one wall, photographs of finished things—lamp, planter, prosthetic gripper, kite—assemble like a generous, off-key choir.

Meanwhile, time behaves oddly: hours dilate; minutes skitter. Someone laughs; someone swears—softly, apologetically—when a blade bites the wrong line. The space is, yes, buzzing with energy, but under that hum is patience, a long, collective inhale. Measure; mark; make—unmake; make again. What else is a community but a promise to return? Towards evening, the sunlight loosens; the golden lattices dissolve. The printers keep purring, the laptops dim to constellations, and the door—forever propped, forever welcoming—leans open to the pavements and the rain. Inside, possibility keeps assembling itself, quietly, meticulously, one deliberate layer at a time.

Option B:

Ping.

A single syllable slit the dark, neat as scissors through ribbon. Grace found the rectangle by her bed; the screen woke and spilled a small blue morning across her sheets. 00:13. The house held its breath; her group chat clamoured inside her hand. 'Year Eleven Science' pulsed at the top. One notification became two: not weather, exactly, but the prickle that something was about to happen.

She opened it because habit is louder than doubt. The messages arrived in staccato bursts.

'guys??'

'you seen this'

'Omg—Grace—'

Her name landed like a dropped plate. Then a screenshot unfolded: a grainy shot of a half-ajar cupboard by reprographics, a sliver of someone’s blazer, a caption in breathless lowercase: 'heard she nicked the bio paper 4 mins b4 the mock.' Above it, the little pulsing ellipsis bloomed and vanished, bloomed and vanished, as if the chat itself were trying to breathe.

By the time she scrolled, judgement had arrived, self-appointed and breathless.

'knew it'

'my cousin saw her by the staffroom'

'is it true tho?'

Emojis erupted, then cooled. The words jostled, each assertion harvesting certainty from the one before it, like badly stacked chairs. Heat climbed her neck; the duvet was suddenly too heavy. Rumour, she realised, doesn’t knock; it wanders in and rearranges the furniture.

It was ridiculous and yet — not entirely baseless. At lunch she had hovered by reprographics with a stack of charity leaflets, waiting for a rubber band. The cupboard door had been ajar; someone laughed behind staffroom glass. That was it. A sliver could belong to anyone. Still, a sliver can be sharpened into a blade, and passed round.

Her thumbs hovered. How do you answer a hundred fingerprints with one sentence? She typed, deleted. 'Guys, this isn’t—' The grey bubble rose, hesitated, died. Mia’s private message blinked: 'u ok? want me 2 say something?' Then, in the main thread: 'office says someone logged in with G HARDY at 12:14.' Proof, of a sort.

Already the screenshot wore the badge no one wants: Forwarded many times. It slipped out of their thread and into others she wasn’t in, proliferating like dandelion clocks. She put the phone face down, as if that could smother it. But rumours are opportunists: they slide under doors, travel along corridors, whisper through keyholes. They spread like wildfire, people say; perhaps that’s lazy — fires at least need a match.

Morning would bring corridors and verdicts. Grace turned it over. The message box waited, white as snow. She inhaled, steadied herself, and began to write.

• Level 4 Lower (19-21 marks for AO5, 13-16 marks for AO6, 32-37 marks total)

Option A:

The makerspace greets you with a hum that collects in the rafters: a low chorus of fans and motors, while high windows pour winter light onto scarred benches strewn with improvised jigs and dog-eared manuals. Dust glitters like fine metal filings. 3D printers in a neat phalanx shuttle their heads—whirr and wait, whirr and wait—laying thread-thin paths of filament that bloom into brackets and improbable prototypes. On the pegboard, spanners, saws, soldering irons hang like punctuation; everything looks paused yet poised.

The smell is complicated: sweet plastic, faintly sugary; pine shavings; the medicinal clean of isopropyl. Coffee steams in chipped mugs, leaving rings on MDF mapped with tiny burns, glue halos and doodles. A whiteboard dominates one wall, palimpsested with diagrams—a gear over a circuit, a rectangle labelled 'Maybe' and circled twice. Beside it, a shelf of failures—stringy prints drooping like seaweed, a laser-cut lattice charred at the edges, a knitted square that puckers despite best intent. They are trophies, not shame.

People move in small orbits, patient. A retired engineer squints down calipers, notating numbers in a tidy notebook; his hands are oiled with habit. A teenager bites a lip, watching a strip of LEDs stutter alive; code swims across a laptop, green on black. At the sewing station, a woman guides bright fabric under a flickering needle, the rhythm brisk and strangely calming; she pauses to unpick a seam with a neat, decisive sigh. Near the tool library, a boy and his dad argue gently over the right drill bit. "Try the three-millimetre," someone suggests, not looking up. Advice moves easily here—passed hand to hand like a spanner.

Order hums alongside invention; drawers are labelled in a neat, assertive hand: M3 bolts, sandpaper (fine/coarse), 'Borrowed Pens'—already empty. Safety posters bloom; goggles hang from hooks. The laser cutter coughs in its clear box, the soldering iron exhales a thin thread, and the CNC mill chatters. A volunteer in a hi-vis vest moves quietly, answering with patient, pointed fingers. This is a kind of forge, though the ore is thought; ideas arrive tentative and leave braced. When the day thins and chairs are nudged in, the printers keep murmuring—layer by patient layer, the night is given shape.

Option B:

Evening. The time when the house settled, the radiators exhaled, and homework sat obediently beneath the yellow cone of a lamp. Maya was halfway through a line of poetry when her phone twitched on the desk. One polite ping; then another, less patient. The screen lit up like a small sun in the dimness, all glossy promise and danger.

Year Ten Group. The banner at the top seemed suddenly officious, almost conspiratorial. A message flashed: “omg have you heard about Jess???” Another followed immediately: “don’t say i said but she CHEATED.” The words pricked at her like nettles. She stared for a second, long enough to see the miniature ellipsis appear—someone typing—in a rhythm that felt predatory.

She tapped in. The chat was a river; it ran fast and bright and slightly toxic. Names cascaded down the glass. A screenshot materialised—blurry, cropped, “proof”—accompanied by a cascade of emojis that tried to soften the blow and only sharpened it. Apparently. Allegedly. Supposedly. That adverbial fog drifted through every sentence as if absolving the senders of blame. “My cousin knows her brother.” “Sir looked FURIOUS.” “They found the answers in her notes.” Each claim grew a shadow and called it truth.

Maya knew Jess—knew the way she lent out highlighters without making a show of it, knew the scruffy plait that always fell apart in Biology. The accusation was an insect in Maya’s ear she couldn’t shake; the idea of it hummed. She scrolled, shivering as the blue light turned her fingers wintery. The chat was voracious. It took a rumour and fattened it, fed it on speculation and memes, until it became something almost respectable—a story with a spine.

Her thumbs hovered. One impulse urged her to add a wry comment—just to be part of it, not excluded by silence—while another, sturdier impulse asked an inconvenient question: What if you’re wrong? The room smelled faintly of toast; it grounded her. She typed, deleted, typed again. “Do we actually know anything?” she wrote. A long message, careful, balanced (perhaps a fraction too earnest). She added, “This could really hurt her.” She hesitated, then pressed send.

For a heartbeat, the torrent paused. The ellipses blinked. Someone posted a shrugging GIF; someone else replied with a hollow, breezy “relax.” Then the current recommenced, faster now, as if her resistance had been a pebble thrown in; the surface rippled and swallowed it. “I heard she’s getting excluded.” “It’s true, my mate saw.” Evidence multiplied while meaning thinned.

Upstairs the boiler clanked. In her lap the phone shivered again, insistent, insidious. The rumour had crossed the screen; tomorrow, it would walk the corridors on actual legs. Maya imagined Jess’s face when the whispers found her. She pressed the side button until the light vanished. In the sudden quiet, her pulse sounded loud—like a notification with nowhere to go.

• Level 3 Upper (16-18 marks for AO5, 9-12 marks for AO6, 25-30 marks total)

Option A:

The door swings inward and a low tide of warmth and light slides out with the bright, busy smell of melted plastic and sawdust. Inside, the room hums in layers: the soft whirr of printers, the tap-tap of keys, the small sneeze of compressed air. Spools gleam like hard sweets in jars, neatly labelled; strip lights hang steady and practical, flattering no one but making everything clear enough to try.

To the left, a pegboard holds the room to account. Hammers, chisels, calipers hang in crisp silhouettes, each tool outlined so it returns to its place; behind them, a wall mottled with thumbtack scars. Below, a bench wears the honest confusion of making—measuring tapes curled like sleeping snakes, a soldering iron resting on its stand, a scatter of screws that look too small to matter until they do. Even the bins are ordered: plastics, metals, wood.

Meanwhile, the printers behind their acrylic panes whisper to themselves. Thread by thread, they lay down glistening paths, building small cathedrals of filament that glow faintly under the strip lights. A boy watches, goggles slipping down his nose, his patience taut as fishing line; a woman beside him edits a file on a laptop. The smell here is sweet and faintly acrid, like burnt sugar. It isn’t beautiful; it is purposeful.

Beyond a glass screen, the laser cutter lifts its amber lid and lowers it again, obedient, precise. A thin red dot finds its map, and wood darkens where light touches it. There is a hushed respect here, broken by the tick of an extractor and the hush-hush of smoke. At the far bench, two volunteers compare sketches—one speaks in measurements, the other in metaphors; they meet in the middle over a ruler.

Here, people share more than space. A retired engineer shows a teenager the trick of a stubborn bolt; a dressmaker tests conductive thread on a scrap of denim; someone writes a wobbling note on the chalkboard timetable. By the door, the sign says Mind the tools, mind each other. As evening leans in, switches click: the whirr softens, the light settles. Projects pause, not end, waiting for tomorrow’s hands.

Option B:

Sunday night. The time of unfinished homework; phones buzzing under duvets; excuses forming like low, swollen clouds that threaten rain. Streetlights bled amber onto the pavement. Inside, houses breathed: radiators ticking, taps dripping, the soft, insect hum of notifications.

My phone lay face down on my desk, a stubborn little moon. I told myself not to check it. It buzzed again, then again, a staccato I knew was the form chat. I flipped it over. 11C All (88). The first line slid up, bold and breathless: “don’t tell anyone but—” The typing dots appeared, vanished, appeared. The message landed: “PROM IS CANCELLED.” Then a cascade: “what?!” “nahhh” “why wud they do that” “source pls.”

A new contact arrived with a grey silhouette. “Marco set off the fire alarm to get out of detention. He got caught. CCTV and that. Suspended tmrw.” The words felt clumsy and certain at the same time. Someone forwarded a blurry screenshot—an email header, the school crest like a smear. “Due to an incident…” The rest was cropped off, but certainty doesn’t always need a full picture; sometimes it prefers a jagged edge.

I stared at the screen, at the cruel, cheerful blue ticks. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe bad things could happen; it was just Marco. Marco, who fiddled with his laces for a whole lesson; Marco, who panicked when the toaster set off at home. Fire wasn’t a joke to him. Yet in the chat the rumour moved faster than sense. It grew legs. “Police came” (they hadn’t). “He’s expelled” (he wasn’t). “Prom’s not cancelled, it’s moved” (then, seconds later) “Actually it’s banned forever.” Our words made the story walk around the room, then run.

By nine eleven, my name crept in. “Weren’t you with him after school, Iz?” “Bet she knows.” I felt my stomach tighten; breath snagged like a sleeve on a door handle. I typed, deleted, typed again. I didn’t want to splash oil on it—but silence felt like oil too. Another ping: “Keep this quiet.” Another: “Don’t tell anyone but send to the others.” The contradiction was almost funny, if it hadn’t been so sharp.

Downstairs, the kettle clicked off. Upstairs, light pooled on my hands. The typing dots hopped again—always the promise of something, always the threat. Somewhere between one message and the next, the rumour stopped belonging to anyone. It belonged to the chat now, to the sixty thumbs that couldn’t resist; to the thrill of knowing first, even if you didn’t really know at all.

• Level 3 Lower (13-15 marks for AO5, 9-12 marks for AO6, 22-27 marks total)

Option A:

The door opens on a long room of light and noise. Fluorescent tubes hum above benches scattered with tools; afternoon sun slants through high windows and turns the dust into a slow, drifting snow. The air is warm and smells of hot plastic and coffee and pine shavings, a little sweet and a little sharp. Machines seem to breathe; fans whisper; a printer clicks. On the wall a hand-painted sign declares: Make, Mend, Share.

At the far side, 3D printers squat under clear lids, their nozzles tracing careful paths. Layer by layer, layer by layer, they build something from almost nothing: a teal gear, a tiny boat. Spools of filament line a shelf like bright fruit. A boy with ink-smudged fingers leans forward, watching the lines settle; beside him a woman taps at a laptop, her mouth tilted in concentration.

In the wood corner, clamps bite and the smell of glue rises. Sawdust floats, gold in the light, and a sander thrums a steady rhythm. An older man with a pencil tucked behind his ear checks a measure twice, then lowers the blade—slow, deliberate. Safety glasses glint. Someone coughs; someone laughs; the radio mutters a weather report. On the pegboard, silhouettes show where each tool belongs, and most of them are actually back.

The electronics bench is neat and green-topped, with a fume extractor sniffing away the thin smoke of solder. Tiny resistors scatter like seeds; an LED blinks in a tentative beat. A teenager solders while a retired engineer watches closely, offering a tip, not a lecture. The whiteboard lists ideas: fix a bike, build a bee hotel, learn to code. Near the kettle, a jar invites screws for swapping, and a battered biscuit tin makes the loudest welcome. It is messy, yes, but hopeful; a place that fits pieces together—objects, plans, people.

Option B:

The first ping hardly sounded like trouble. My phone shivered on the kitchen table, nudging the butter knife so it clicked against the plate. Toast steam curled up; the kettle muttered; the group chat bloomed across the screen as usual.

The message sat at the top like a dare: 'did u hear about Leah' And then the eyes. I looked around the empty kitchen; my name looked louder than the rest of the words. The three dots appeared, disappeared, returned. The next message arrived: 'apparently she got the maths paper early'.

Photos followed: a blurry shot of me outside the office; a cropped timetable; a screenshot of some email subject that said Review. Underneath, a caption: 'receipts'.

I hadn't held any paper except a permission form for the council meeting. I'd revised until my eyes hurt; I had not cheated. But the chat didn't want explanations; it wanted speed. Messages cascaded, stacked, repeated. Someone changed the group picture to a magnifying glass. Pings stitched themselves into the morning like a stubborn thread—tight, scratchy, impossible to ignore.

I typed, deleted, typed again. My thumbs hovered, silly birds at a window. What do you even say when your whole year is staring at a rumour dressed up as truth? I tried to pick calm words: 'This isn't true. That's a permission slip.' My message floated, waiting. More replies leapt over it: 'sure jan', 'wow', a voice note I couldn't open because my hands had started to shake.

I wanted the room to go quiet, but the kettle clicked off and the house felt louder. Mum's footsteps on the stairs sounded slow; like they would cost me something. I glanced at the clock. School in twelve minutes. The rumour was already ahead of me, running down corridors, slipping under doors, whispering my name.

• Level 2 Upper (10-12 marks for AO5, 5-8 marks for AO6, 15-20 marks total)

Option A:

The makerspace hums like a small factory. Bright fluorescent tubes make the long benches shine; the air is warm and a little chemical, sawdust mixed with hot plastic and coffee. Pegboards hold rows of spanners, tiny screwdrivers and scissors, all lined up like silver fish. Beside them, the printers chatter, thin strings of filament feeding through neat nozzles; they draw shapes on the bed again and again, patient and precise.

At the back, a laser cutter exhales a pale blue glow; it slides across a sheet of acrylic, leaving a sweet, sharp smell. The woodshop is busier: clamps bite plywood, an oscillating sander purrs, and curls of pine fall like confetti. Meanwhile the electronics table blinks red and green.

People move easily between stations. A girl in a paint-splashed hoodie measures twice, her tongue caught between her teeth, then cuts once. Two retired men argue about the right angle; their tape measure flicks out, retracts, flicks out. A volunteer shows a kid how to model a gear on the screen—click, drag, rotate—until it looks almost real.

Nothing feels expensive here, but everything feels possible. Parts sit in labelled tubs, ideas spill onto scrap paper, and the room keeps its steady music. It is messy in places, organised in others; it is a community that builds itself, piece by piece, print by print. When the door finally shuts, the benches still hold the warmth of hands, and the projects wait for tomorrow.

Option B:

The first ping cut through the quiet like a pebble dropped in a pond. In the half-dark of the living room, Leah's phone glowed, the group chat icon pulsing: Year Ten Talk. Then the message arrived: "omg, don't tell anyone but I heard something about Aron." Another ping.

Rumour travels fast; faster than buses, faster than apologies. Someone forwarded it; someone added a blurry photo that didn't prove anything. Words swelled and twisted like smoke under the door. Who even starts these things anyway? "He stole the exam paper." "No, he hacked the Wi‑Fi." "Miss said police where at school."

Leah's thumb hovered above the keyboard. She knew Aron; he sat quietly, drawing little stars on his margin. The idea stuck in her throat. Should she defend him? Or stay quiet and safe? The phone buzzed again, impatient. It felt wrong and also scary. Another message popped up: "apparently Ms Patel saw it happen, its true."

Meanwhile, in the other chat—the one with just three of them, the Library Crew—someone asked, "Is this about Aron?" Leah typed and deleted, typed again. The cursor blinked, a tiny lighthouse. She wrote: "Guys, this isn't fair: we don't know anything." Then she paused. The message sat there, unsent, like a breath caught.

By midnight, the story had already changed shape; it grew extra details, sharp edges, a tail. Inside the phone, whispers were loud, electric. Morning would come, and the rumour would arrive too, ahead of everyone, already waiting by the gates.

• Level 2 Lower (7-9 marks for AO5, 5-8 marks for AO6, 12-17 marks total)

Option A:

When you push the glass door, warm air brushes your face, carrying coffee, sawdust and melted plastic. Lights glare over long benches scattered with laptops, pliers, tape; wires loop like small vines. On the wall: posters, rules, a calendar. At the far side, 3D printers hum and nibble orange filament, layer by layer. The makerspace buzzes—like a hive. Click, tap, whirr. A hammer taps once and then again. Messy, colourful, a bit noisy, but welcoming.

At one bench an older man shows a boy how to solder; the iron shakes and a tiny curl of smoke twists up. Meanwhile, two friends argue softly about a design on a screen, moving blocks, moving lines. By the window, a woman feeds bright fabric under a sewing machine; the needle pecks like a small bird. People share tools, we wait, we swap. Sometimes there isn’t enough glue, sometimes a drill bit goes missing and we all look for it together.

Things fail here and they work here, again and again. It is not quiet; it is hopeful. When a printer finishes, little shapes cool like sweets. Its a place where ideas feel allowed. In this room, we make things and, kind of, each other.

Option B:

On a dull Tuesday, my phone lit up like a match in a dark room. Ping. Ping. The group chat banner slid across the screen like a headline, loud and small at the same time.

At first it was a throwaway message from Liam: "Did you hear about Maya? She got kicked out of rehearsal." A laughing emoji followed, and a hush dropped into my stomach. The grey "typing..." bubble blinked, then three more names appeared. "I heard she shouted at Miss," someone wrote, and someone else said they had a screenshot.

Then it spread. The rumour ran faster than the bus outside; it jumped across blue ticks and tiny circles and nicknames. I stared at the screen, the blue light felt cold. My sandwich went soft on the plate. I typed: We should check, and deleted—twice. It was easier to watch, to scroll, to let it circulate like wind through a corridor.

By three o'clock the chat had hundreds of messages. Screenshots, guesses, a voice note like a whisper through a wall. Maya’s name flashed again and again. No one asked her. Why didn’t I? After a while the rumour felt heavy, like smoke under a door that wouldn’t leave. I put the phone face down. It buzzed anyway. It buzzed again.

• Level 1 Upper (4-6 marks for AO5, 1-4 marks for AO6, 5-10 marks total)

Option A:

The room is big and bright. I hear a hum like a bee. The 3D printers are in a row, they glow orange and blue and they spit out thin lines of plastic, it goes round and round.

On the wall there are tools, hammers and screwdrivers, they hang like shiny fish; a drill sleeps and then wakes with a growl. It smells like saw dust and hot glue. There is a laser cutter in a box, it flashes red—everyone says dont touch!

Shelves are high - full of boxes and wires. Signs say Make and Share. There is safety gogles in a tub, they are smudgy.

A boy draws a plan, a lady helps, they whisper and laugh, the wires twist like noodles. My hands feel rough from the wood, my ears buzz, I want to make something to. The place is noisy but friendly, like a small town workshop.

Option B:

The group chat went quiet then my phone buzzed on the desk. The blue light blinked like a small eye, it kept winking at me. A new message slid in, dont tell anyone but something happened to Maya. The words felt hot. I could almost hear them.

It pinged. Ping. Ping. The rumour walked from one name to the next, like a tiny bug.

We was just chatting before, memes and homework, then it turned. Kai said, swear down. Leah typed fast, I seen it on her story, she got caught, she crying. I stared. My thumb hovered, my mouth felt dry like toast. I said maybe it's not true.

dont tell anyone, they wrote again, but they all told someone. The chat went quick like rain on glass and my heart did too.

Outside the room was quiet, inside the phone was loud.

• Level 1 Lower (1-3 marks for AO5, 1-4 marks for AO6, 2-7 marks total)

Option A:

The room is big and bright. Tables in rows, wires all over, I step careful. The tables is messy with screws. There is tools on the wall and boxes, tape and glue, and bits. The 3D printers hum and click, hum and click, it keeps going. The smell is plastic and wood dust and hot metal, it sticks in my nose. People talk, someone laughs, a drill starts, then stop. A robot car spins, it bumps. A boy uses a saw, he is careful but the blade shakes. It feels busy but also slow. Light is white on the floor.

Option B:

Ping ping ping goes my phone and the group chat wakes up, I look and everyone is typing, like bees in a jar, it feels loud. Sam says he heard a rumour about Mia, he says she cried in the toilets and ran, then Ben says its worse, I dont even know. We was all sending eyes and question marks!!! Outside the rain is boring and my bus was late and I had chips at lunch. The rumor rolls bigger, like a ball. My screen looks hot. I type, then I delete, coz im not sure. Who started it who knows nobody says.