My daughter was sixteen. She went to a party at a friend’s house. We had an agreement: if she ever felt unsafe or uncomfortable, she’d text me the word “headache.” At 10:30 PM, my phone buzzed: “headache” I called immediately. Loud, angry voice: “You didn’t finish your chores before you left! You need to come home RIGHT NOW. I don’t care if your friends are upset. This is unacceptable.” She played along perfectly. “Dad, that’s not fair! I did—” “NOW. I’m on my way.” I picked her up. She got in the car, and her whole body relaxed. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “What happened?” “Older guys showed up. Someone brought alcohol. It just felt wrong. I wanted to leave but didn’t want everyone to think I was lame.” “You’re not lame. You’re smart.” She nodded. “Can you be the bad guy more often?” “Any time you need me.” ~Anonymous