Sam
"Yeah," I say. "Exactly like that."
The eighteen-year-old frowns. "I've been to support groups before. They're all the same. Some counselor asking how you feel and telling you it's going to be okay."
"This wouldn't be like that," I say quickly. "No counselors. No forced sharing. Just us. Figuring it out together."
"What would we even do?" the girl with the nose ring asks.
"I don't know," I admit. "Talk, maybe. Or just sit together. Share resources—like counseling options, housing help, job leads. Whatever we need."
"And you'd run it?" the girl with the messy bun asks.
I shake my head. "We'd all run it. Together. I'm not a therapist. I'm just... someone who was there. Same as you."
The younger girl wipes her eyes. "I don't have anyone to talk to about this. My foster parents try
