Recorded Books Inc. - Dont Read the Comments

Divya Sharma is a queen. Or she is when shes playing Reclaim the Sun, the years hottest online game. Divyabetter known as popular streaming gamer D1Vregularly leads her #AngstArmada on quests through the games vast and gorgeous virtual universe. But for Divya, this is more than just a game. Out in the real world, shes trading her rising-star status for sponsorships to help her struggling single mom pay the rent.

Gaming is basically Aaron Jerichos entire life. Much to his mothers frustration, Aaron has zero interest in becoming a doctor like her, and spends his free time writing games for a local developer. At least he can escape into Reclaim the Sunand with a trillion worlds to explore, disappearing should be easy. But to his surprise, he somehow ends up on the same remote planet as celebrity gamer D1V.

At home, Divya and Aaron grapple with their problems alone, but in the game, they have each other to face infinite new worlds...and the growing legion of trolls populating them. Soon the virtual harassment seeps into reality when a group called the Vox Populi begin launching real-world doxxing campaigns, threatening Aarons dreams and Divyas actual life. The online trolls think they can drive her out of the game, but everything and everyone Divya cares about is on the line...

And she isnt going down without a fight.

Honest, heartfelt, and wonderfully imaginative. Eric Smith masterfully depicts the light and dark sides of gaming culture, showing the beauty and power of online friendships as well as the all-too-real risk of harassment, doxxing, and internet trolls. A timely novel that captivated my nerd-heart from the very first page!

Akemi Dawn Bowman, Morris Award finalist and author of Starfish

A modern-to-the-minute adventure about rising above expectations of family, class, and social media, to find your true destiny and grab it by the controller.

Whitney Gardner, award-winning author of Youre Welcome, Universe

Dont Read the Comments has so much heart: the kind that makes you fall in love, and the kind that makes your breath short. If youre not already a gamer, you might be after this book. And if you need a little hope, Eric Smith delivers the sunshine.

Olivia A. Cole, author of A Conspiracy of Stars

As much a love letter to the world of gaming as it is a clear-eyed examination of its dark side, Dont Read the Comments is bold, passionate, and necessary. Smith has created a wholly immersive world centered around a video game Id dearly love to play, and gamers Id dearly love to know.

Sarvenaz Tash, author of The Geeks Guide to Unrequited Love and Virtually Yours

Dont Read the Comments

Eric Smith

For my dear friend Darlene Meier,
a strong female character who has never needed saving.

And for my wife, Nena, and son, Langston,
who saved me.

Eric Smith is an author and literary agent from Elizabeth, New Jersey. When he isnt working on other peoples books, sometimes he tries to write his own. He can be found writing (and podcasting) for places like Book Riot and Paste magazine, and enjoys pop punk, video games and crying during every movie. He lives in Philadelphia with his wife and best friend, Nena; their son, Langston; and a corgi named Auggie.

www.EricSmithRocks.com

Contents

DIVYA

M om. Weve been over this. Dont read the comments, I say, sighing as my mother stares at me with her fretful deep-set eyes. Theyre dark green, just like mine, and stand out against her soft brown skin. Wrinkle lines trail out from the corners like thin tree branches grown over a lifetime of worrying.

I wish I could wash away all of her worries, but I only seem to be causing her more lately.

Im just not comfortable with it anymore, my mom counters. I appreciate what youre doing with...you know, your earnings or however that sponsor stuff works, but I cant stand seeing what theyre saying about you on the Internet.

So dont read the comments! I exclaim, reaching out and taking her hands in mine. Her palms are weathered, like the pages of the books she moves around at the library, and I can feel the creases in her skin as my fingers run over them. Bundles of multicolored bangles dangle from both of her wrists, clinking about lightly.

How am I supposed to do that? she asks, giving my hands a squeeze. Youre my daughter. And they say such awful things. They dont even know you. Breaks my heart.

What did I just say? I ask, letting go of her hands, trying to give her my warmest its-going-to-be-okay smile. I know she only reads the blogs, the articles covering this and that, so she just sees the replies there, the sprawling commentsand not what people say on social media. Not what the trolls say about her. Because moms are the easiest target for those online monsters.

Yes, yes, Im aware of that sign in your room with your slogan regarding comments, Mom scoffs, shaking her head and getting to her feet. She groans a little as she pushes herself off the tiny sofa, which sinks in too much. Not in the comfortable way a squishy couch might, but in a this-piece-of-furniture-needs-to-be-thrown-away-because-its-probably-doing-irreversible-damage-to-my-back-and-internal-organs kind of way. She stretches her back, one hand on her waist, and I make a mental note to check online for furniture sales at Target or Ikea once she heads to work.

Oof, I must have slept on it wrong, Mom mutters, turning to look at me. But I know better. Shes saying that for my benefit. The air mattress on her bed framein lieu of an actual mattressisnt doing her back any favors.

Id better add a cheap mattress to my list of things to search for later. Anything is better than her sleeping on what our family used to go camping with.

Still, I force myself to nod and say, Probably. If Mom knew how easily I saw through this dance of ours, the way we pretend that things are okay while everything is falling apart around us, shed only worry more.

Maybe she does know. Maybe thats part of the dance.

I avert my gaze from hers and glance down at my watch. Its the latest in smartwatch tech from Samsung, a beautiful little thing that connects to my phone and computer, controls the streaming box on our television... Hell, if we could afford smart lights in our apartment, it could handle those, too. Its nearly 8:00 p.m., which means my Glitch subscribers will be tuning in for my scheduled gaming stream of Reclaim the Sun at any minute. A couple social media notifications start lighting up the edges of the little screen, but it isnt the unread messages or the time that taunt me.

Its the date.

The end of June is only a few days away, which means the rent is due. How can my mom stand here and talk about me getting rid of my Glitch channel when its bringing in just enough revenue to help cover the rent? To pay for groceries? When the products Im sent to review or sponsored to wearand then consequently sellhave been keeping us afloat with at least a little money to walk around with?

Im going to start looking for a second job, Mom says, her tone defeated.

Wait, what? I look away from my watch and feel my heartbeat quicken. But if you do that

I can finish these summer classes another time. Maybe next year

No. No way. I shake my head and suck air in through my gritted teeth. Shes worked so hard for this. Weve worked so hard for this. You only have a few more classes!

I cant let you keep doing this. She gestures toward my room, where my computer is.