Molly tapped her pen against the blueprint of the community center. "Alright, Bill, we hit the party at 7 PM sharp. The kids will be too busy with the magician to notice us." Bill, chewing on a stale pretzel, squinted at the map. "Magician, huh? Any chance he's in on it?" "Nope, straight up prestidigitation. We slip in, grab the gifts, and out before the rabbit gets suspicious." "What about the clowns?" Bill asked, his voice tinged with genuine concern. "Clowns are harmless. Besides, they'll be too busy trying to figure out how to drive that tiny car." Bill chuckled, then sobered. "And the parents?" "Parents are always glued to their phones. We'll be ghosts." "Ghosts with loot," Bill corrected, grinning. Molly nodded, her eyes gleaming. "Exactly. Ghosts with loot. Now, let's go over the escape route one more time." They bent their heads together, the plan unfolding like a well-rehearsed play. The community center, with its cacophony of laughter and magic, would soon be their stage.