“No.

It came through when she was helping me set up the tablet last night.

It just appeared.”

I took the tablet gently out of her hands.

“Did she ask you to show me?”

“No.”

“Then don’t mention that you saw it,” I said.

Zoe frowned, and I understood the frown, because I was teaching her something I was not sure I wanted to teach an eleven-year-old — that sometimes you hold a piece of what you know in reserve, and let the other person tell you the truth in their own words, so that you can measure the distance between the two.