I have a fourteen-year-old daughter, and for the first time in my life, I’m learning what it means to hover on the edge between trust and fear.
She’s been dating a boy from her class—also fourteen—for a few months now. His name is Noah. He’s polite in a way that almost feels old-fashioned. He looks adults in the eye. He says “thank you” without being prompted. When he comes over, he offers to take his shoes off at the door and asks if he should help carry anything.
