Sam
The courthouse is packed.
I've been here so many times over the past few weeks that I know which water fountain has the coldest water, which bathroom stall has a broken lock, which bench in the hallway gets the best light in the afternoon.
But today feels different.
Today is the verdict.
I'm sitting in the third row of the gallery with Jenna on my left and Maya on my right. Behind us are Cara, Lily, Rachel, Sophie, and eight other girls from the support group. Some brought their parents. Some brought social workers. Some came alone.
But they all came.
The courtroom is filled with people—prosecutors, defense attorneys, law enforcement, reporters, families. The air is thick with anticipation, the kind that makes it hard to breathe.
Jenna's leg is bouncing next to me. She's been d
