Project Date Read Free

Collecting rare insects seemed like an oxymoron to me, but when I’d point this out to my dad, he’d reply that he was actually protecting them from the environmentally callous.
    On top of it all, Dad didn’t take failure well. The last time they went on a bug hunting expedition, he was foiled from capturing his specimen because his guide—a hapless boy barely out of puberty—handed him a net that had a hole from a mishap the previous day. Fortunately, the boy was a great runner and managed to escape. I don’t think it comes as a surprise that Dad isn’t allowed entrance into that African province any more.
    Mom sighed again. “I managed to convince him a Central American jail wasn’t a place he wanted to spend any amount of time. But that’s not why I called. Have you talked to Daphne?”
    Daphne is my nemesis. And my sister, but that’s secondary.
    “Not in a few days,” I said guardedly, even though it was more like a few weeks.
    “I’ve been trying to reach her all day but she’s not answering. I’m worried about her.”
    Of course this was about Daphne. It was always about Daphne. I should have known my mom didn’t call to talk about me. I wanted to say maybe their precious angel didn’t answer because she was getting laid, but that sounded implausible even to me. Daphne didn’t have casual liaisons. Actually, Daphne didn’t have any liaisons—she was too busy saving the world. So I just muttered “Hmm.”
    “When did you say you’d last spoken with her?”
    I didn’t. “I’m sure she’s fine, Mom. She’s probably all wrapped up in work. You know how she gets.”
    My mom harrumphed. “Sometimes I wish she were less driven about her work. Like you, Philomena.”
    Backhanded compliments were a fact of life with my parents where I was concerned. And it generally led to a list of all the areas where I lacked in comparison to Daphne. I walked into the living room and flopped onto the couch. At least I could be comfortable while she ragged on me.
    But instead of launching into a tirade about my job (she hates that I’m a sys admin instead of doing something worthwhile, like researching childhood diabetes), she said, “Her thirtieth birthday is coming up. I was thinking of throwing her a big party. What do you think?”
    Hours listening to my parents’ friends rave about how great Daphne is? Terrible idea. “Is she coming home?”
    “She’ll come home,” Mom said confidently.
    I couldn’t help but remember six months ago when Daphne came back to Portland for Christmas. Pure hell. All I heard was Daphne this and Daphne that. I knew my sister was perfect—I didn’t need it crammed down my throat.
    I’d been ecstatic when she went off to California for college and stayed there. I’d thought, finally I wouldn’t be crowded by her enormous shadow anymore.
    What happened, though, was kind of like when a rock star dies at the height of his fame—instant immortality. I had to live with the specter of Daphne hanging over my shoulder, at home, and at school. Thank God we hadn’t attended the same university—I think that saved my sanity. It was bad enough that I wasn’t out to save the world like Daphne; at least I didn’t have teachers comparing my mediocre intelligence to her brilliance.
    I won’t even touch the fact that I dropped out of college after the first year and the furor that caused.
    “Philomena? Are you there?”
    I shook my head and relaxed my too-tight grip on my cell phone. “Yeah.”
    “What do you think?”
    “Uh—” I had the distinct impression I’d missed something. “Sounds great.”
    “You weren’t listening to what I was saying, were you?”
    “No, actually.” I winced, but I didn’t bother to deny it. Lenora Donovan had Spidey sense where her daughters were concerned.
    “I was saying that, while it’s great that Daphne is so dedicated to her work, she needs balance in her life. How long has it been since she’s had a boyfriend?”
    Was this a