Molly crouched behind an overgrown azalea, squinting through her binoculars at a backyard bursting with balloons. “It’s a fortress,” she muttered. Beside her, Bill popped a hard candy into his mouth, crinkling the wrapper loudly. “Can you chew quieter?” she hissed, never lowering her lens. The bounce house pulsated in the distance, squeals echoing up like alarm bells. “Look, the presents are next to the clown,” Molly noted, pointing at a mountain of exquisitely wrapped boxes. Bill frowned. “You didn’t say there’d be a clown.” Molly nudged him. “If you’d read the email, you’d know. Now, distraction?” Bill considered. “Clown fight?” She nearly choked, suppressing a laugh. “We’re not mugging a clown.” “Just a suggestion,” he whispered. A toddler tottered over to the fence, fingers sticky with cake. Molly ducked. “We’ll need costumes,” she insisted. “Balloons and a big bowtie?” “You’d look good in purple.” She examined the perimeter. “The adults rotate cupcake duty—one every eight minutes,” she whispered. “That’s our window.” Bill grinned. “And if we’re caught?” Molly smirked. “Blame the clown.” Behind the fence, giggling children shrieked as the piñata split. Molly and Bill prepared to slip into the pandemonium, eyes fixed on their prize.