Molly pressed her back against the brick wall of the community center, watching a parade of minivans discharge their precious cargo of screaming children clutching gift bags. Each kid carried at least one brightly wrapped present, and her practiced eye caught the telltale shapes of electronics, toys, and what appeared to be a very expensive microscope. She adjusted her sunglasses and checked her watch. The party started in ten minutes. Bill shuffled up beside her, inexplicably wearing a full clown costume complete with rainbow wig and oversized shoes that squeaked with every step. "What are you wearing?" Molly hissed. "Camouflage. I'll blend right in." "It's a science-themed birthday party, Bill. There are no clowns." Bill looked down at his polka-dotted jumpsuit with what might have been wounded pride, though it was hard to tell under the white face paint. "The internet said kids love clowns." "The internet lied." Molly pulled out her phone and reviewed the floor plan she'd memorized. The presents would be stacked on a table in the main activity room, right next to the emergency exit. Simple grab and go. She'd done harder jobs at actual mansions. This was child's play. Literally. The sound of children singing happy birthday drifted through the propped-open door. She gestured for Bill to follow and crept along the building's perimeter. They reached the side entrance just as a harried mother rushed past them, dragging a crying child toward the bathroom. "Now," Molly whispered. They slipped inside. The hallway smelled like pizza and cake frosting. Molly's stomach rumbled traitorously. She hadn't eaten since breakfast, too focused on planning this ridiculous job. But rent was due, and apparently the birthday boy's parents had invited half the school. The haul would be worth thousands. Bill's shoes squeaked against the linoleum. She shot him a glare that could have melted steel. "Sorry," he mouthed. They rounded the corner and Molly's heart sank. The activity room door was wide open, and she could see straight through to the present table. But between them and their prize stood at least forty children wearing lab coats and safety goggles, enthusiastically mixing vinegar and baking soda in plastic bottles. A woman in a "Science is Magic" t-shirt stood at the front, demonstrating proper volcano-making technique. "We need a distraction," Molly muttered. Bill's painted face split into a grin. Before she could stop him, he honked his nose twice and cartwheeled into the room, bells jingling from his costume. "Who wants balloon animals?" he bellowed. Every child turned to stare. The science teacher's mouth fell open. In the chaos of delighted shrieks and stampeding children, Molly saw her chance. She darted along the wall, keeping low, fingers already reaching for the gift bags. This was either going to be her easiest score or her most embarrassing arrest.