If Jo believed in anything it was just that: that someday Sam would realize he mattered, that he deserved good things and to fight for them. If it took her all her life she'd try her best to help out there.
Jo hadn't been expecting Sam to say anything - she had learnt a little while ago not to, and that was okay. If anything when people tried to say something meaningful to her now it fell so short it felt the exact opposite way than intended. Silence was good, it really was. She could feel he felt for her and her brother and sister stuck in the school, and that was enough.
To say Jo was expectant was an understatement; in fact, she was more nearing nervous about his reaction than expectant. She wasn't sure why this mattered so much, but it did, and so it was like she was showing a sketch to someone for the first time all over again. While Sam observed the sketch Jo observed him, eyes wide, momentarily forgetting that he probably didn't like that very much and she was going to make him uncomfortable. Sam was a little hard to read, but Jo gathered that he was, at least, a little in awe. Whether it was 'oh wow that looks just like me' awe or 'did you really take that long to make this piece of unimpressive crap?' awe, she wasn't too sure. But she hoped it was the former.
Glancing at the sketch to make sure, Jo was almost definitely positive it wasn't a piece of crap. She wasn't particularly vain, but she knew the arts were one of her few talents - she hadn't gotten into the Fine Arts program out of the goodness of the department head's heart after all. "Do you...do you like it?" She asked, surprising herself with how eager for approval she sounded.