Molly crouched behind a row of hedges, peering through a gap at the house festooned with balloons and streamers. The air smelled faintly of frosting and crushed crackers, a sugary assault she wasn’t thrilled to endure. Beside her, Bill was trying—unsuccessfully—to look inconspicuous, which was a lost cause given his neon orange jacket. “You know, this is the weirdest job we’ve ever done,” Molly muttered, wiping a smear of dirt from her black leather gloves. Bill shrugged, pulling a flashlight out of his jacket pocket and clicking it on. “Hey, presents are presents. Kids or crooks, no difference to me as long as the loot’s good.” Molly scowled. “Easy for you to say. You don’t have to wrestle with angry four-year-olds or dodge hyperactive sugar-fueled monsters.” Bill grinned. “I’m a professional. I can handle anything. Besides, you’re the one who came up with this genius heist idea.” “Genius?” she echoed, arching an eyebrow. “Because I want to steal presents from children at a birthday party? You’re going to regret agreeing to this.” Before Bill could retort, laughter and shouting erupted from the front porch. They ducked deeper into the bushes, hearts thudding. Through the leaves, Molly spotted the birthday girl—a tiny tornado in a pink tutu—blowing out candles while a dozen kids awaited her approval on the latest balloon animal trophy. “Alright, operation Present Snatch is a go,” Molly whispered. “We have maybe ten minutes before the sugar rush reaches critical mass.” Bill nodded, pulling a list from his pocket. “According to Larry the Bartender—don't ask—there’s at least twenty big gift bags inside the living room. Cash, toys, and who knows what else.” “Larry’s tips have gotten us into more trouble than out of,” Molly said. “But okay. What’s the plan?” Bill pointed a finger. “I go left past the snack table, cause a distraction by ‘accidentally’ knocking over the punch bowl and slipping. Chaos ensues.” “Oh yes,” Molly said, deadpan. “Because what’s a party without a drowning punchbowl disaster?” “Exactly. While everyone’s busy mopping up, you slip into the living room and grab the goods.” Molly hesitated. “And what if I get stopped by the party parents? They look like they mean business.” “Talk your way out. Stand tall. Say you’re the ‘official... um, party inspector.’ Or ‘balloon quality controller.’” “You expect me to improvise a job title on the spot?” She rolled her eyes. “Fine, but if I get tackled by a nurse named Julie, don’t come crying to me.” Bill smirked. “Julie’s cute. You might want to reconsider.” She narrowed her eyes. “You’re the one who’s going in after me, not the other way around.” “Touché.” He grinned and nudged forward. “Ready?” “Ready.” Molly took a deep breath and slid out from behind the hedge. The party’s jubilant chaos swallowed her immediately. Bill followed, his neon jacket a bright beacon. Moments in, Bill reached the snack table like clockwork and clumsily sent the punch bowl flying. A wave of purple liquid crashed over the carpet as screams and laughter erupted. Parents rushed to find napkins while kids gleefully shrieked. Molly used the confusion to dart inside, eyes scanning stacks of shiny wrapping paper and ribbons. She slipped a sparkly box into her bag, then another, careful to avoid the suspicious gaze of a stern-faced dad wielding a carrot stick like a weapon. “Hey!” he barked. “Who’s that?” Molly froze, then smiled sweetly. “Official balloon quality control. All in a day’s work.” The man blinked. “Uh… right. Carry on, then?” “Thanks!” Molly escaped, heart pounding. Outside, Bill was tangled in a puddle of sticky punch and napkins, grinning like a champ. “Mission Accomplished?” Molly jogged back, bag heavier but spirits high. “Let’s get out before the sugar crashbacks up the party security.” Bill laughed, slipping a sticky napkin into his pocket as a trophy. “Best. Heist. Ever.” Molly shook her head, smiling. “Only we would rob a children’s party and call it a ‘heist.’” “And we did it with style. Next time, cake.” “Deal.”