The wave pool at the waterpark was crowded:
one moment I was under the water, and then I wasn’t.
I told Miss Cheryl, with all the confidence of a child, I wasn’t going to drown, I know
how to swim. She told me, you didn’t even see the wave coming.

Miss Cheryl, who worked at the daycare, looked at my mom.
She saw the bruises and didn’t need to know about
……………the time he threw his wedding ring like the pin from a grenade
……………the lamps he broke until all we knew was darkness
……………the chair he threw so mom would know she wasn’t invited to dinner
……………the nights we weren’t allowed to eat
……………the clothes he made her wear
……………the things he made us do.

Miss Cheryl, who worked at the daycare,
had college tuitions to pay, and five years left
on her mortgage, and a husband
with a second job.

Miss Cheryl, who worked at the daycare,
was in her bathing suit and saw what was coming,
a wave that would consume my life, our lives,
and even though he was her boss, the man who signed her paychecks,
she took me out of school to a lawyer’s office,
where my mom was waiting.
She got us away from him.

Amanda Karwel graduated from Indiana University of Pennsylvania with a degree in Biology and a minor in Chemistry. She started writing in high school when a good friend who wrote poetry suggested she try it out. While looking for a way to use her degree, she works at a country club serving cocktail weenies to rich people.