The blueprint for Operation: Birthday Bash was spread across the rickety card table, a glittery, half-eaten slice of birthday cake marring a corner. Bill poked at it with a screwdriver. “Right, so I’m the creepy clown, you’re the face-painter. We get in, create a diversion, and nab the presents.” Molly rolled her eyes, twirling a lock of pink hair. “Nobody is going to believe you’re a clown, Bill. You have the emotional range of a stapler.” “It’s a costume! I’ll honk my nose and everything,” he retorted, picking up a red rubber nose. “Fine, but if one child asks for a balloon animal, you’re on your own. My priority is the pile by the bouncy castle. We have a two-minute window before they bring out the ice cream cake.” “Deal,” Bill said, snapping the nose onto his face. “Let’s go ruin some childhoods.”