Trey's nine years older than me, but we get on great. Every summer for the last six years, he invites me to stay with him for a week. The stated reason for these visits is for me to get some culture: art galleries, theatre, musical performances, et cetera. We do enough of that to please Mum and Dad, and I enjoy it too: Trey has a way of making even the driest events fun, by pointing out and explaining the parts he knows will interest me. But the main reason for these trips, in my thinking, is a much needed break from my life of constant scrutiny and pressure from my parents and assorted teachers and coaches. I do love them, but they don't seem to realise that I need to relax as well as study and practice. Without being big headed about it, I'm pretty smart; I don't need to study as hard as they think I need to. So a week without them constantly on my shoulder gives me time to breathe. When I got off the train, Trey was right there, beaming at me. He had grown a beard since I last saw him, and it suited him.
