Sam
The shop is full tonight.
Twenty girls sit in a circle that's expanded to fill nearly the entire back section. Some are on folding chairs, others on overturned crates or cushions we've collected over the past few weeks. The overhead lights cast a warm glow, and someone brought fairy lights that we strung along the walls—Maya's idea, something to make the space feel less industrial and more like ours.
I stand near the center, holding my notebook but not really needing it anymore. I know most of these girls by name now. I know their stories, their triggers, their small victories.
"Okay," I say, glancing around the circle. "Let's start with check-ins. How's everyone doing this week?"
Jenna raises her hand first. She always does—she's become one of the anchors of this group, someone t
