Run: 2026-03-11-01KKFE5CQ0JSFSJ1K2BD21PHD9

The azalea bush had more thorns than a prison mattress, and Molly was already itching so bad she’d scraped three holes in her cutoff jeans just trying to squirm away from a line of marching fire ants. Bill, her partner in far too many bad ideas, was pressed shoulder to shoulder with her, his neon fanny pack digging into her ribs, his eyes glued to the cluster of wrapped presents stacked by the Henderson’s back patio cooler. Across the lawn, seven-year-old Lila Henderson’s birthday party raged: a bounce house wheezed in the corner, a Bluey piñata hung from the oak tree, and a mom in a unicorn apron chased a toddler who’d dumped an entire bowl of punch over his own head. A golden retriever trotted past the bush, snuffled once, and Bill froze, shoving a half-eaten corn dog deeper into his hoodie pocket like the dog wouldn’t smell the mustard. “Look,” Bill hissed, nodding at the present stack, “I told you recon paid off. That big silver one’s a Nintendo Switch. The tiny square one next to it is AirPods, I checked the Amazon tag sticking out. That giant sparkly one? A 200-piece Barbie Dreamhouse. We could flip that whole lot for enough cash to cover your back rent by the end of the week.” Molly swatted the back of his head, knocking his cheap Spider-Man baseball cap askew. “Your recon was scrolling the mom’s Facebook page for 12 minutes last night. Last week you said we’d steal a church’s bake sale cash and you came home with three lumpy lemon bars that gave me food poisoning. What’s our cover again, genius? We can’t just wander up and start hauling presents.” Bill waved a crumpled magician’s cape he’d pulled from his fanny pack, the sequins shedding all over Molly’s white sneakers. “We’re the entertainment! The mom posted she was stressing ‘cause her magician canceled that morning. I showed up to the door ten minutes ago with a pepperoni pizza, said I was the replacement, sent her to grab more paper plates from the garage. All we gotta do is load the presents into my minivan while everyone’s watching me pull a quarter out of a kid’s ear.” Molly stared at him, at the lopsided cape, at the full Spider-Man mask sticking out of his fanny pack, at the golden retriever who’d circled back and was now staring right at them, tail wagging hard enough to shake his whole body. Somewhere on the patio, Lila yelled that the magician was here. A group of kids came sprinting toward the bush, screaming so loud a flock of sparrows exploded off the oak tree. Molly sighed, grabbing the beat-up balaclava she’d stuffed in her pocket, and stood up, brushing thorns off her jeans. “If a single one of those Legos is already opened, I’m stealing your entire collection of vintage wrestling figures and selling them for gas money.” Bill grinned, scrambling up after her, cape flapping in the summer breeze. “Trust the process!”