Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.

<passage>:
Ronnie's heart. To Ronnie, the clock seemed to be saying: Ronnie shivered, his pulse quickening. The muscles in his small body living room. The slamming of a gyro-car door. The opening of the front door of the house. Dad's deep, happy voice echoed up the stairway: "Hi, beautiful!" Ronnie huddled in the darkness by the half-open bedroom door. Dad burst, "He was doing what ?" Ronnie silently closed the bedroom door. Why did you tell him, Mama? Why did you have to tell him? "Ronnie!" Dad called. Ronnie held his breath. His legs seemed as numb and nerveless as the Ronnie! Come down here! Like an automaton, Ronnie shuffled out of his bedroom. He stepped humming movement under his weight. To his left, on the wall, he caught kaleidoscopic glimpses of Mom's old like a wounded bird falling out of the sky. He saw that Dad and Mom were waiting for him. Mom's round blue eyes were full of mist and sadness. She hadn't bothered to smooth her clipped, creamy-brown hair as she always did when Dad was coming home. And Dad, handsome in his night-black, skin-tight Pentagon uniform, had become a hostile stranger with narrowed eyes of black fire. "Is it true, Ronnie?" asked Dad. "Were you really—really reading a Ronnie gulped. He nodded. held Ronnie's arms and looked hard into his eyes. For an instant he became the kind, understanding father that Ronnie knew. Ronnie tried to keep his legs from shaking. "It was—Daddy, you won't make trouble, will you?" "This is between you and me, son. We don't care about anyone else." "Well, it was Kenny Davis. He—" Dad's fingers tightened on Ronnie's arms. "Kenny Davis!" he spat. "The boy's no good. His father never had a job in his life. Nobody'd even Mom stepped forward. "David, you promised you'd be sensible about this. You promised you wouldn't get angry." Dad grunted. "All right, son. Go ahead." "Dear," said Mom. "You promised." A moment of silence. Ronnie said, "He took me to his house. I met his dad. Mr. Davis is lots of fun. He has a beard and he paints pictures and he's collected almost five hundred books." Ronnie's voice quavered. "Go on," said Dad sternly. "And I—and Mr. Davis said he'd teach me to read them if I promised not "How long ago did all this start? "T—two years ago." Dad rose, fists clenched, staring strangely at nothing. "Two years," he breathed. "I thought I had a good son, and yet for two house in Washington instead of trying to commute." "David," said Mom, very seriously, almost as if she were praying, "it won't be necessary to have him memory-washed, will it?" Dad looked at Mom, frowning. Then he gazed at Ronnie. His soft-spoken words were as ominous as the low growl of thunder: "I don't know, Edith. I don't know." cigarette to his lips. "Come here, son." Ronnie followed and sat on the hassock by Dad's feet. "Maybe I've never really explained things to you, Ronnie. You see, you do, or for a corporation." Ronnie blinked. "Mr. Davis doesn't work for the gover'ment or for a corpor-ation." "Mr. Davis isn't normal," Dad snapped. "He's a hermit. No decent family would let him in their house. He grows his own food and sometimes he takes care of gardens for people. I want you to have more than that. I "B—but why do these things have to be so secret?" Ronnie asked. them, don't they?" "Sure, son. One person in ten thousand might reach the point where it just isn't done. Why, the President himself wasn't trusted to learn till he was nearly fifty!" Dad straightened his shoulders. "Look at me. I'm only 30, but I've been a messenger for Secret material already. In a few years, if things go you're crazy like old man Davis." "Mr. Davis isn't crazy. And he isn't old. He's young, just like you, and—" "Ronnie!" Dad's voice was knife-sharp and December-cold. Ronnie slipped off the "Damn it, son, how could you even think at school. Ronnie, don't you realize I'd lose my job if people knew I had a Reader for a son?" "B—but, Daddy—" Dad jumped to his feet. "I hate to say it, Edith, but we've got to put Please—" Dad stood very tall and very stiff, not even looking at him. "They this. I thought maybe Ronnie could have a few private psychiatric antique clock. All movement seemed frozen, as if the room lay at the bottom of a cold, thick sea. "David," Mom finally said. "Yes?" "There's only one solution. We can't destroy two years of Ronnie's psychiatrist or maybe a psychoneurologist. A few short treatments—" Dad interrupted: "But he'd still Dad groaned. " Three of them. Did you burn them?" "I don't know. Ronnie seemed to like them so much. I thought that maybe "Edith, I think I know why Ronnie wanted to read, why he fell into the Dad nodded at the clock, and the slow, smouldering anger returned to his face. "It's your back to the 1940's." Mom's face paled. "I don't understand." Ronnie's been conditioned from the very time of his birth to like old you see what this means? Ronnie'll have to be memory-washed back to the "No, David, no!" "And in my position I can't afford to have an eight-year-old son with complete memory-wash. He'll never know we existed, and he'll never bother us again." Mom ran up to Dad. She put her hands on his shoulders. Great sobs burst from her shaking body. "Edith," he said crisply, "just what was Ronnie reading? What's the " Mom's voice was a barely audible croak. "Who's the author?" "I'm sorry, David. I've never told anyone—not even Ronnie. I haven't "A good wife." Dad sneered. His face was so ugly that Ronnie looked Ronnie. You know how young people are—reckless, eager to do forbidden tonight Ronnie saw no fear in her eyes. Ronnie said, it's fun. The video's nice, with its dancers and lovers before you because in that way you feel that they belong to you." Her words echoed in the room until absorbed by the ceaseless, ticking clock. Mom stood straight and unashamed. Dad's gaze traveled slowly to Ronnie, to Mom, to the clock, back and forth. At last he said, "Get out." Mom stared blankly. "Get out. Both of you. You can send for your things later. I never want to see either of you again." Ronnie and Mom left the house. Outside, the night was dark and a wind "Where will we go, Ronnie? Where, where—" Ronnie led her through the cold, windy streets. They left the lights of An instant later a door opened and a small boy ran out to meet them. "Hi, Kenny." "Hi. Who's that? Your mom?" "Yep. Mr. Davis in?" "Sure." And a kindly-faced, bearded young man appeared in the golden doorway, smiling. Ronnie and Mom stepped inside.

<question>:
Who lives with Ronnie?

<options>:
A Mom, Dad
B Mom, Dad, Grandmother
C Mom, Dad, Kenny
D Mom, Grandmother, Mr. Davis

<answer>:

A