Mrs. Ayu, Mrs. Astuti, and Fadil's Mom stared at one another.
"This is all we've got? What can this possibly cover?" asked Mrs. Ayu, who was, notably, the neighborhood chair's wife.
"That's what I'm thinking too, ma'am. What can this amount cover? At most, it would be enough for refreshments for the kids. Where are the prizes supposed to come from? And what about the contest for the moms? Are we really canceling it? What should the prizes be so they're economical?" Fadil's Mom, the neighborhood treasurer, was just as worried as she looked over the bills residents had donated for the Independence Day contests.
"Well, what else can we do? People are only willing to give this much," said Mrs. Astuti in her thick Javanese accent. "No way we can ask them twice."
"But I'm sure the residents in our neighborhood unit can afford more than this," Mrs. Neighborhood Chair said firmly.
Yes, Unforgettable Memories Estates was made up of 45-square-meter homes, but nearly all its residents were socialites—even if some were wannabes.
"Didn't you see how many plastic grocery bags Mrs. Siska brought home from shopping yesterday? Eight plastic grocery bags, ladies! Eight! And a courier comes to Mrs. Menul's house three times a day. You're telling me they can only donate ten thousand for the Independence Day contribution? At least ten thousand five hundred, right?" Fadil's Mom was practically blazing with enthusiasm.
"What can five hundred bucks become?" Mrs. Astuti scratched her head beneath her hijab.
"It could become ten thousand if we got it from twenty houses," Fadil's Mom shot back.
"If that's the case, just raise it to a thousand. Then it'll become twenty thousand."
Fadil's Mom let out a long sigh at Mrs. Secretary's words.
"By the way, how come I'm only just hearing that Courier Guy visits Mrs. Menul's house three times a day? What does he do there?" asked Mrs. Astuti.
"He asks for a drink—to take his medicine!" Fadil's Mom snapped.
"Oh, I see. Poor Courier Guy. What's wrong with him?"
Fadil's Mom slapped her own forehead.
"Come on, please. Do you really have to ask something like that?"
"All right, all right, let's put Courier Guy aside for now. We need to figure out how to get more donations. Any ideas?" Mrs. Neighborhood Chair tossed the question to her two colleagues.
"Ask for donations by the roadside. Bring a cardboard box like we do when we're collecting donations for natural disasters. Write, 'Donations for the Independence Day contests,'" suggested Fadil's Mom.
"If we want to ask for donations by the roadside, we need permission from the neighborhood and district associations. Especially if it's on a main road. But let's not. The risk is too high. I'd be terrified if someone got clipped by a car just because we were looking for donations!" Mrs. Ayu rejected the idea.
"True. And who are we supposed to make stand out there? The Youth Council? They're busy too." Fadil's Mom propped her chin on her palm.
"Hey, Mrs. Neighborhood Chair. Do we have anything to drink? We've been meeting here this whole time and haven't been given anything. I'm thirsty!" Fadil's Mom giggled.
Mrs. Neighborhood Chair smiled weakly.
"I forgot. Just a second!" The middle-aged woman headed toward the kitchen.
"If you have any rengginang rice crackers, you can bring those out too, Mrs. Neighborhood Chair!" Fadil's Mom called after her.
"If I bring out the rengginang rice crackers, Fadil's Mom is definitely going to ask for a plastic grocery bag. She'll say she'll eat them at home later, but she'll really take the whole lot. Huh, I know all your tricks, Fadil's Mom!" Mrs. Neighborhood Chair grumbled from the kitchen.
"The rengginang rice crackers haven't been fried yet, Fadil's Mom! Maybe tomorrow when we meet again!" Mrs. Neighborhood Chair shouted.
"The raw ones are fine too, ma'am!" Fadil's Mom wasn't out of ideas yet.
"Still no!" Mrs. Neighborhood Chair snatched up a plastic grocery bag filled with raw rengginang rice crackers.
"So what do we do? Any other ideas?" Mrs. Neighborhood Chair asked, carrying a tray with two glasses of water.
"What about—"
Ding!
The phones of the three highest-ranking moms in Neighborhood Unit 01 of Unforgettable Memories Estates chimed at the same time.
All three instinctively opened the messages on their respective phones.
In the neighborhood group chat, Mrs. Siska, the wife of a journalist for the newspaper Berita Tak Jelas, posed with a designer handbag.
Her caption read: "Ugh, they bought me a CHEAP bag."
Mrs. Ayu, Mrs. Astuti, and Fadil's Mom all flashed huge smiles at once.
"Big prey!" Mrs. Ayu raised one eyebrow.
"Extra funds," Mrs. Astuti smirked.
"All it costs is a little flattery," Fadil's Mom chimed in.
And...
"Let's gooo!" they cried as they streamed out of the neighborhood chair's house and rushed toward Mrs. Siska's, which was only a few houses away.