“Danny, it’s not right that he took something from you, but you were very wrong to put a snake in his bed.” Part of her was glad Danny was standing up for himself, but she didn’t want him to do it this way, like her parents would.

On her laptop screen in front of her, the available games on the VR website automatically showed a small screen of the gameplay in the corner, so users could preview what the game looked like while being played. That really was one of her better ideas. Taken from her, and what did she do? She left the forum. She said nothing. She did nothing. She . . . she just let him.

She didn’t want Danny to follow in her footsteps either. “Listen, Danny, kids can be mean. Say stuff and do stuff that’s not nice or right, but you need to tell the counselor, not put snakes in their beds. That only makes it worse. Do you understand? You can’t sink to their level. Because you have better ways to get back at them.”

“Yeah, like what?”

“Like proving you were right. Hold on.” Maddie swiped open the photo album on her phone and searched. She chose two images, both of Danny with his wide, crooked grin beside Esmé Theot in their house—the “Li Family” sign above their mantel clearly in the background. At the time she signed with Maddie’s parents’ fledgling agency, Esmé technically lived in Boston, but she was at Maddie’s house so often it was like she lived with them. The publishing world was new to all of them, and they learned it together. “Check your messages. And show that kid who Danny Li is.”

After talking with the camp director, Maddie hung up and texted her mother:

Get your son more Gumberoo socks.

She pulled her laptop toward her and punched in the graphic design forum site, scanning the threads. She found the one she knew would be there, a congratulations on the gaming site going live. It had always been a supportive group—they’d cheered her when she’d gotten into design school. She scrolled through the congratulations thread, taking in the confetti and champagne, but the anger that normally bubbled up was replaced with something else. She seized on the feelings of empowerment building and added her own comment to the thread: “Congrats! Encouraged to see how well you incorporated all my ideas. Next time, though, ask first.”

In her profile settings, she turned the notifications back on, eager to see the responses.

A text popped up from her mom: What size? I’ll have my assistant send them.

No, not your assistant, you. With a note. FROM YOU. SIGNED BY YOU.

She thought of Sadie.

And send a second pair here, along with a signed copy of the series.

The full series, every single book.