Molly crouched behind a bush, binoculars glued to her eyes. “You realize we’re robbing a Chuck E. Cheese-level operation, right? Balloons, glitter, and tiny juice boxes.” Bill adjusted his ski mask. “Exactly. No security. Just clowns with existential dread.” “They’ll have parents, Bill. Angry, coupon-clutching parents.” “Then we go in during the magic show. Distraction’s built in. Also, I’ve studied the cake trajectory.” “The what?” “When they bring out the cake, every adult films it. No one’s watching the gift table. It’s a logistical goldmine.” Molly squinted. “And the getaway?” “Tricycle. Two baskets. I modified one for extra storage.” “You modified a kids’ tricycle?” “It’s aerodynamic now. Also, has a horn.” “A horn?” “For morale.” “You’re insane. This is either genius or the reason we end up on an FBI bulletin about toy theft.” Bill grinned. “Only one way to find out. Operation: Sugar Rush is a go.” “Operation what?” “I needed a name!” “You can’t name a heist like it’s a middle school science fair project.” “Too late. I already printed the T-shirts.” Molly sighed. “Of course you did.” “Relax. Worst case, we’re fugitives with a lifetime supply of finger paint and ego puzzles.”