The backroom of *Sugarplum’s Sweet Shoppe* smelled like stale cotton candy and regret, which, Molly decided, was just the right ambiance for planning a heist. She kicked her boots up onto the wobbly card table, sending a stack of napkins fluttered to the floor. Bill didn’t even glance up from the blueprint he’d stolen—*borrowed*, he insisted—from the party planner’s office. “Alright, genius,” Molly said, tossing a half-melted lollipop at his head. “Walk me through this masterpiece of yours. Because last time you ‘planned’ something, we ended up in a bouncy castle with a very angry clown.” Bill caught the lollipop without looking and stuck it in his pocket. “That clown had it coming. And this time, it’s foolproof. The party’s at the *Grand Ballroom of the Whimsy Inn*, which, fun fact, has a *very* old ventilation system.” Molly raised an eyebrow. “You’re gonna crawl through the vents? Bill, you’re six-foot-three and built like a fridge. You’ll get stuck like a hair in a drain.” “Not *me*,” he said, tapping the blueprint. “You. You’re the tiny, nimble one. You go in, disable the security—” “What security? It’s a *kids’ party*. The biggest threat is a toddler with a juice box.” “—grab the presents, and I’ll be outside with the getaway van. Easy.” Molly leaned forward. “And how, pray tell, do I get *out* of the vents? Last I checked, they don’t come with fireman poles.” Bill grinned. “That’s where the piñata comes in.” She blinked. “The *what* now?” “The piñata. It’s a *giant* donkey. You climb in, I ‘accidentally’ knock it over during the party, and *bam*—you roll out in a shower of candy. Distraction *and* escape.” Molly stared at him. “You want me to hide in a *piñata*.” “It’s genius.” “It’s a death trap. What if someone *hits* me?” “They won’t. I’ll be the one ‘helping’ the kids. I’ll make sure they all swing wild.” She groaned, rubbing her temples. “And the presents? How do we even *find* them in a room full of screaming children?” Bill pulled out a second sheet of paper—a color-coded map with little stick figures labeled *MOM*, *DAD*, and *SUSPICIOUS UNCLE*. “The parents will be clustered near the food. The presents are under the table by the balloon arch. Easy pickings.” Molly squinted. “You drew a little devil next to *SUSPICIOUS UNCLE*.” “Instinct.” She sighed, snatching the map. “Fine. But if I get beaned by a four-year-old with a stick, I’m haunting you.” “Deal.” Bill clapped his hands. “Now, timing’s everything. The party starts at 2 PM, but the parents will be distracted by the *magician* at 2:30—” “There’s a *magician*?” “—which is when you make your move. I’ll create a diversion—maybe ‘accidentally’ set off the sprinklers—” “You’re *what*?” “—and while everyone’s scrambling, you grab the loot and bail. Simple.” Molly pinched the bridge of her nose. “This is the worst plan you’ve ever had.” “No, the worst was the time we tried to rob a bakery by disguising ourselves as loaves of bread.” “That was *your* idea too.” “And it *almost* worked!” She stood up, grabbing her jacket. “Alright, fine. But if I die in a piñata, I’m taking you with me.” Bill grinned, rolling up the blueprints. “That’s the spirit. Now let’s go case the joint. And Molly?” “Yeah?” “Try not to eat all the candy before we leave.”