The hammer rang once. A spark jumped off the anvil and did not go out. It waited. They followed.

It rolled into the community kitchen and tapped the steel pass.

The big wooden spoon had a crack, bound with string. A tiny hammer was burned into the handle.

Bà Tư had a note from the school. "Year Five go on a trip tomorrow," she said. "They want summer rolls for the coach."

She gave out the jobs. "Halver, you scale the recipe. Pie, you check the cupboard. Lan and Beto, you roll. Hands washed first."

Bà Tư pinned up her card. It said: summer rolls, makes 24. Rice paper, 400 grams of rice noodles, 8 carrots, 16 sprigs of mint.

Halver read the note again. "Only half the class signed up for lunch," she said. "So we make half."

"Half of everything," said Lan. "Or it isn't fair."

Halver wrote it down. Twelve rolls. Two hundred grams of noodles. Four carrots. Eight sprigs of mint.

Pie came back from the cupboard holding a flat packet. "Rice paper," she said. "But look."

She counted the round sheets onto the counter. There were nine.

"Twelve rolls need twelve sheets," said Beto.

"Name the piece before you serve it," said Pie. "Nine of twelve is three quarters. We can only make three quarters of the half batch."

"Easy," said Beto. "Three quarters is a quarter less. So it's a half take away a quarter. That's a quarter batch."

He started dividing the noodles into four.

A quick, bright lizard was sitting on the windowsill in the sun. She had two long strips of coloured glass, one red and one blue. Her name was Times.

"Of means times," said Times. "Not take away."

"How many rolls is a quarter batch?" she asked.

Beto worked it out. A quarter of 24 is six. "Six rolls."

"And how many sheets do you have?"

"Nine." Beto stopped. "So three sheets would go to waste."

"Three children would get no lunch," said Lan. "And three sheets would dry up in the packet."

Times jumped down onto the counter. "Lay one strip across the other."

She put the red strip down flat. She had marked it into two halves and shaded one. Then she laid the blue strip across it. She had marked that into four quarters and shaded three.

Where the two strips crossed, the glass glowed purple.

"Count the little squares," said Times.

Lan counted. The crossing made eight small squares. Three of them were purple.

"Three eighths," said Lan. "Three quarters of a half is three eighths."

"Part of a part is smaller," said Times. "Smaller than the half and smaller than the three quarters. That surprises everybody."

Halver did the rest. Three eighths of 24 rolls is 9. Three eighths of 400 grams of noodles is 150 grams. Three eighths of 8 carrots is 3. Three eighths of 16 sprigs of mint is 6.

"Nine rolls," said Beto. "Nine sheets. That fits."

Bà Tư showed them how to dip a sheet in warm water for one breath, until it went soft. Then you lay it flat, add a pinch of noodles, carrot and mint, fold the sides in and roll.

Lan rolled one. Beto rolled one. They took turns.

Lan rolled the ninth roll with the ninth sheet. Nine rolls in a row, nine empty spaces in the packet. Nothing left over, and nobody short.

Bà Tư wrote the recipe on a card for Lan. It was the third of four recipe cards for the feast.

Back on the Green

The spark dimmed to a warm dot and settled back on the anvil. The Green was just the Green again.

At home, Beto's mum was cutting a pizza in half for him and his sister. His sister wanted two thirds of her half.

"That's a third of the pizza," said Beto. "Of means times."