62 original exam-style questions - 17 pages of questions with a full mark scheme - free printable PDF.
Original fiction written for Revision Library; no external source reproduced.
Amara had been looking forward to the kite festival at Danson Park for weeks. Every February, her grandfather Elijah packed the old estate car with folding chairs, a flask of tea, and the enormous red dragon kite he had owned since he was a boy. This year, Amara was allowed to bring a kite of her own: a sleek yellow diamond with a long, ribboned tail.
They arrived just after nine, when the grass was still damp with dew and the park was already filling with families. Stalls sold hot chocolate and gingerbread, and somewhere a brass band was tuning up. Amara gripped the handle of her kite tightly, her stomach fluttering with a mixture of excitement and nerves. She had never flown a kite by herself before.
'Face into the wind,' Elijah told her, crouching beside her on the grass, 'and let the string out slowly. Don't rush it.' Amara nodded, though her hands were trembling slightly. She lifted the kite above her head and began to run. For a moment nothing happened, and the kite dragged limply behind her. Then a gust caught the fabric, and the kite lurched upward, climbing higher and higher until it hung, trembling, above the treeline.
Amara laughed with delight as the yellow diamond billowed against the pale sky. All around her, kites of every shape rose into the air: dragons, box kites, and long snake kites that twisted like ribbons. Soon the sky above Danson Park had become a patchwork of colour, red and gold and blue overlapping as the kites dipped and soared.
For twenty minutes, everything went perfectly. Then, without warning, the wind changed direction. Amara felt the string yank hard in her hands. She tried to hold on, but the kite spun sideways, dived, and plunged into the branches of a tall oak tree at the edge of the field. The string snapped. The kite was gone.
Amara's eyes stung. She had only just learned to fly it. Elijah did not rush to comfort her straight away. Instead, he studied the tree carefully, then walked to the boot of the car and returned with a long bamboo pole he used for his allotment runner beans. Working patiently, he hooked the pole into the branches until, at last, the yellow kite tumbled free, slightly torn but whole.
'There,' he said, handing it back to her. 'A kite that has never crashed has never really flown.' Amara wiped her eyes and grinned. She examined the small tear near the tail, already imagining how she would mend it with tape that evening. Then she turned back to face the wind, ready to try again.