Outside, the bakso cart honked its signature wooden-tone honk. Rania's stomach growled. She had exactly Rp3.000 left from the market—just enough for one small bowl, no noodles, extra meatballs.
"Rp8.000 for two," she offered, holding up her money.
"Even when we bathe," Keysha echoed.
They shook on it like tiny business partners. The snack turned out to be two pieces of nastar left over from last Eid. Rania ate hers slowly, saving the pineapple jam filling for last. That afternoon, Rania's best friend Keysha came over. Keysha had just gotten a new tembak —a friendship bracelet made of colorful rubber bands, the kind that was suddenly the most important thing in fourth grade.
Rania shook her head. "Ibu bilang, jangan boros." She turned to walk away.
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