I remembered Mom laughing as she showed us the brochure for “Fun Town”.  The place of laughter and peace.  She was really happy about the “peace” part of it.  We were in a war zone.  Little “Fun Towns” were set up around the world, like safety retreats, in a way.  So of course Mom had to pay a bunch of money so we could be safe.  We left our tiny red home with one story and brown shutters.  The only advantage the house had was the wrap-around porch with the hanging wooden swing.  So we got to live in a town with no fighting and a barbed wire fence.  Yay, freedom!  Now we can live with a bunch of other people who despise the Other Team just like us!  I thought constantly on the train ride

To Fun Town. 

When we arrived, I got a strange feeling of loneliness, even though Fun Town looked busy with people.  Fun Town seemed to be a regular busy town.  The streets were not vacant but not swarming with people either.  There were houses,with   colors varying from a barn-red to a eggshell-blue.  Few cars drove around on the paved streets.  Everything looked perfect, not a thing out of place.  All of this was surrounded by a barbed-wire fence.  “Yay! We are here!” I said, without much enthusiasm. 

“Don’t be so glum,Chloe”, my dad said, but he looked nervous himself.

  I got out of the car and shook my short blond hair, which went perfectly with my piercing green eyes and pale skin.  The city looked as innocent as a newborn baby, as though it had nothing to hide.  The solemn guards led us to our new home, a lime green home with two stories and a blue door.  My dad told me we had to check in first with the main city offices.  Heart pounding and hands trembling, I looked around with wonder.  Was it true?  Did the city really have no war or crimes?  A police car, the intimidating machine, stopped right in front of our home just as we were getting ready to leave.
        

Trembling with fear, my dad got out of our red ford with the blue stripes by the door.  “I’m sorry sir, but because of your previous acts of terrorism, you have to come with me.  My brain immediately entered shock mode.  Time seemed to stop as I took in the officer’s outstretched hand, my dad’s shocked face as it faded into guilt.  I saw my mom’s face had an equally stunned look on it.  Terrorism? What? My parents came here to escape terrorism, not be followed by it!  I glanced again and took it all in.  The clouds seemed to shift over the sky in a matter of seconds, blocking out the sun and bringing worries with them.  Terrorists.  They can't be terrorists.  Terrorists.  The word echoed in my head as I watched the scene before me.  Terrorists.  Parents are those random-flavoured jelly beans, you never know what they are like until it’s too late.  And my parents were terrorist jelly beans.  I almost felt like laughing, as I watched my parents stare dumbfoundedly at the officer.  Terrorist-flavoured jelly beans.  Hilarious.
   

Bang!  The police car door opened and  two other officers walked out.  They clinked handcuffs on my parents, pushed them into the police vehicle, and sped away towards the nearby police station, that seemed to be taunting me with possible punishments for my terrorist parents.  I chased after the police car without thinking.  Even if they were terrorists, I still loved them.  I couldn’t help but try to convince myself that maybe the officer was wrong, maybe it was all just a big mistake.  I followed the screaming, wailing noise of the fear-striking police car roaring down the side of the road.  The loss of breath from running too fast made me light-headed, but I tried to keep consciousness as I entered the large L-shaped silver building with “Fun Town Police Office” tattooed across the front doors in a fine calligraphy print.
 

Nothing fun about this town, I thought to myself as I entered the building.  My parents were nowhere to be seen, so I walked up to a lady who looked like she had never seen a brush in her life.  Her hair was a mottled mess and she did not look like she wanted to be there.  “Hi! Have you seen two handcuffed terrorists, about five foot tall with brown curly hair?”

I asked, feeling a bit crazy.  I mean, who asks if someone has seen a terrorist lately?  Who does that?  I thought to myself with a chuckle.

Before Ugly-Hair-Day-Lady could speak, my parents walked through the doors by the office desks, assisted by an officer. 

“The place of laughter and peace.  Ha ha ha”, my mom said dryly.  “ I was so happy about the peace part, and now this.”

“Mom, you had to pay a bunch of money for safety, and now I realize all that was so you could run away from the government, who was accusing you of terrorist acts.”  I said, and made my way out the door, consumed with sadness for my unloyal parents.