The Kids Alliance, Chapter 3, By Makaila Odoom

Chapter 3

Sunshine Park Lied To Me

Saturday afternoon, I arrive at the neighborhood park to meet my friends at our favorite spot. We usually carpool, but they all had stuff before this, so we couldn’t. Reina had choir, Abella had drum lessons, and Amia had cheer practice. I had acting class, where I nailed a monologue so hard my teacher actually smiled with his whole face. So yeah, I was feeling pretty cool.

I’ve gone to this park since we moved to Florida. It’s awesome—there’s a cool obstacle course, a jungle gym, and this big pavilion where people throw birthday parties with way too much pizza. Some of my happiest memories live here. This park is like, home away from snack cabinet.

But today? The park looks...wrong.

Like, haunted-forest-waiting-to-be-turned-into-a-Halloween-Horror-Nights-scare-zone wrong.

Where the obstacle course should be? Trees. Where the jungle gym used to stand? Trees. The whole thing looks like someone hit “dark forest” on a video game level editor and just rolled with it.

The pavilion is gone too. It’s like a giant eraser scrubbed all the fun away and replaced it with atmosphere.

I stare at the towering trees, blinking hard like I can reboot my eyeballs. “Jeez, what happened to the park?” I mutter.

I check my phone. Location: Sunshine Park. Yep, still here. Still very much not sunshiney.

I walk into the park slowly, my shoes crunching on leaves that shouldn’t be here. It’s too quiet. No kids. No games. No dogs doing zoomies. Just silence and wind—and that creepy kind of stillness that feels like something’s watching.

I keep walking, trying to stay cool, but my brain is like: Danger! Stranger Things woods detected!

I turn left. Then right. Straight. Stop. This should be our meet-up spot.

But it’s not.

I spin in a slow circle. “Wait, what?”

This is the place I know. I could find it blindfolded while holding a smoothie in one hand and texting with the other.

But now, somehow—I’m lost.

In my own park.

Panic slides up my spine. “Okay… okay, maybe I just turned around wrong.”

A sudden rustle snaps me out of my spiraling thoughts.

I freeze. “Who’s there!?”

A squirrel sticks its head out from behind a tree like, Girl, calm down. It just stares at me. Judging. Hard.

“What? It’s not like you don’t have any fears!” I say, biting my nail and trying not to sound defensive in front of a woodland rodent.

And then—I swear I’m not kidding—it almost sounds like the squirrel says, “Well, you’re soooo smart, human!”

I blink. He scurries off.

Okay. Either I’m losing it, or squirrels are getting way too comfortable.

I rub my eyes. Maybe I didn’t get enough sleep. Maybe I really shouldn’t have had that second boba tea.

But then—

Fwuuum.

A soft, swirling sound grows in front of me. The air ripples, like heat waves, but colder. And bluer. And... brighter?

Something is forming.

Right. In. Front. Of. Me.

A swirling circle of orange and blue light spins into existence, like someone cracked open the sky and poured a galaxy into the middle of the woods. It hums like it knows things. Like it’s been waiting.

“Uh…nope. No. Absolutely not.”

I turn on my heel and start running in the opposite direction like a track star on a mission to stay alive.

“This is not what I came here for!!!” I yell at no one in particular.

But before I can take more than two steps, the fake forest shudders—and peels away like a cheap wallpaper. I catch one tiny glimpse of the real Sunshine Park, like it was just underneath the illusion the whole time. The playground. The pavilion. Everything I know.

And then—

WHOOSH.

I’m flying.

Soaring through the air like I just got launched by a cannon made of pure chaos.

The portal swallows me whole.

Colors swirl around me like a high-speed rainbow blender. My voice disappears in the sound of wind and starlight and whatever else you call portal juice.

My brain is screaming. My stomach is on strike.

But somewhere, in the middle of all the madness, I manage to think:

Well... at least I got to fly for a second.