Chapter 2 - What Sienna Saw

The interview room was usually used for music theory exams.

That fact seemed important to Sienna because everything else felt unreal.

There were framed certificates on the wall, a silent electric piano in one corner, and a whiteboard with half-erased notes from a children’s class. Mr. Danner sat across from her with another competition official, Ms. Patel. A volunteer welfare officer, Mrs. Grant, had been asked to sit in because Sienna was seventeen.

Her mother was not allowed in the room.

Sienna kept expecting Celeste to open the door anyway.

Ms. Patel placed a notebook on the table.

“You’re not in trouble.”

Sienna looked at the sealed bag containing the scissors.

“That depends on what I say.”

“No,” Mrs. Grant said. “It doesn’t.”

Sienna almost smiled.

Adults said things like that when they wanted honesty without having to promise what honesty would cost.

Mr. Danner spoke gently.

“Tell us what you saw. Start wherever you’re certain.”

Sienna folded her hands.

“I saw my mother beside Poppy’s bag.”

“When?”

“Before warm-up. I don’t know the exact time.”

“Could you estimate?”

“Maybe around four-fifteen.”

Mr. Danner checked a schedule.

“The final warm-up room opened at four?”

“Yes.”

“What were you doing?”

“Stretching near the mirrors.”

“Was anyone with your mother?”

“No.”

“What did she say she was doing?”

“She said she was looking for my sewing kit.”

“Did you have one?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“In my garment case.”

“Did your mother know that?”

Sienna looked at the table.

“Yes.”

Ms. Patel paused before asking the next question.

“So why would she look near Poppy’s bag?”

“I don’t know.”

Sienna heard her mother’s voice in her head.

Do not confuse suspicion with evidence.

Celeste had said that to her once after a judge marked her lower than expected. The judge had smiled at another dancer backstage. Celeste had wanted to file a complaint until Sienna pointed out that smiles were not proof of favoritism.

Now Sienna wished the lesson felt comforting.

Mr. Danner asked, “When did you last see the scissors before today?”

“This morning.”

“Where?”

“At home. On the kitchen counter.”

“Were they part of your sewing kit?”

“No. They’re my mother’s. She uses them for thread and fabric sometimes.”

“Why the pink tape?”

Sienna rubbed one thumb over the other.

“I put it there because the metal loop hurt her fingers.”

“When?”

“Maybe a year ago.”

“Could there be another pair with the same tape?”

“No.”

The answer came too fast to soften.

Mrs. Grant leaned forward.

“You’re doing fine.”

Sienna looked at her.

“I’m not.”

“You’re being clear.”

“That isn’t the same thing.”

No one argued.

Mr. Danner turned a page.

“You told Poppy’s teacher your mother had said it would be easier if Poppy didn’t make the final.”

“Yes.”

“What did she mean?”

“I thought she meant the competition would be easier.”

“Why did she say it?”

Sienna hesitated.

Because Celeste had watched Poppy’s semifinal from the back of the auditorium and said the judges loved struggle stories.

Because she had complained that Poppy’s mother sewing costumes at home made them look sympathetic.

Because she had spent six months telling Sienna that sympathy was a weapon other families used when they did not have money, connections, or the right training.

Because Sienna had nodded more often than she had challenged her.

“She thought Poppy was my main competition for the scholarship.”

“Was she?”

“Yes.”

“And did your mother care strongly about the scholarship?”

Sienna laughed once.

“Strongly.”

“How strongly?”

Sienna looked at the piano.

“My mother has planned my training since I was six.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

“No.”

She breathed in.

“She thinks this scholarship proves whether the last eleven years were worth it.”

Mrs. Grant’s expression softened.

“Worth it to whom?”

Sienna looked at her.

“That’s a complicated question.”

In the corridor, Celeste was arguing with someone.

Sienna could hear only pieces.

“…minor’s rights…”

“…defamation…”

“…no authority…”

Mr. Danner waited until the voice faded.

“Did your mother ever tell you to interfere with another dancer?”

“No.”

“Did she ever damage someone’s property before?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Did she ever ask you to lie for her?”

Sienna’s stomach turned.

There it was.

The question she had been avoiding before anyone asked it.

Ms. Patel noticed.

“Sienna?”

“She asked me to say the scissors were mine.”

The room became very quiet.

“When?” Mr. Danner asked.

“In the corridor after Poppy went onstage.”

“What exactly did she say?”

Sienna closed her eyes.

Her mother had taken her by the shoulders.

Those scissors are from your kit. You understand? You brought them. You were fixing your strap earlier.

“I don’t remember every word.”

“Tell us what you remember.”

“She said the scissors were mine. She said I had brought them.”

“Had you?”

“No.”

“Did you agree to say that?”

Sienna opened her eyes.

“I didn’t answer.”

“Did she explain why?”

“She said people were going to turn an accident into something ugly.”

Mr. Danner exchanged a glance with Ms. Patel.

Sienna leaned forward.

“But that still doesn’t prove she cut the costume.”

“No,” he said. “It doesn’t.”

“Then don’t write it down like it does.”

“I’m writing exactly what you’re saying.”

She watched his pen.

For the first time all evening, she believed him.

The interview lasted another twenty minutes.

They asked about access doors, the changing room, who knew where Poppy kept her bag, whether Sienna had seen anyone else near it.

She remembered a volunteer collecting discarded water bottles.

She remembered two younger dancers passing through.

She remembered Miss Keller checking costume numbers.

Nothing else.

When she stepped into the corridor, Celeste stood against the wall with her arms crossed.

“What did you tell them?”

Mrs. Grant moved between them.

“You can speak privately after the interview process is finished.”

“I am her mother.”

“And she is a participant in a safeguarding review.”

Celeste looked at Sienna.

“What did you tell them?”

Sienna’s throat tightened.

“The truth.”

Celeste’s face changed so slightly most people would not have noticed.

Sienna noticed.

“You don’t know the truth.”

“I told them what I saw.”

“You saw me looking for your sewing kit.”

“You knew where my sewing kit was.”

Celeste’s eyes flicked toward the officials.

“Not here.”

Sienna almost followed her out of habit.

Instead, she stayed beside Mrs. Grant.

Celeste saw the decision.

“You are making this worse.”

Sienna’s hands began to shake.

“For who?”

Celeste walked away.

On the other side of the corridor, Poppy was sitting with her mother.

Elena had one arm around her daughter, but Poppy was leaning forward, elbows on knees, still in the borrowed costume beneath a zip-up jacket.

She looked exhausted.

When she saw Sienna, she stood.

“How was it?”

Sienna glanced at Elena.

Poppy understood.

“Mom, can you give us a minute?”

Elena did not move immediately.

Then she nodded.

“Two minutes.”

She joined Miss Keller near the vending machines.

Sienna sat.

“I told them everything.”

Poppy looked at her hands.

“About seeing her near my bag?”

“Yes.”

“And the scissors?”

“Yes.”

“And what she said before?”

“Yes.”

Poppy’s shoulders lowered a fraction.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet.”

“Why?”

“My mother asked me to say the scissors were mine.”

Poppy looked up.

“What?”

“She said I should tell them they came from my kit.”

“Did they?”

“No.”

Poppy stared at her.

“Why would she ask that?”

“You know why.”

“I know what it sounds like.”

“So do I.”

Neither girl spoke.

Poppy sat back down.

“I’m sorry.”

Sienna felt anger rise.

“Don’t.”

“What?”

“Don’t apologize because my mother might have done something terrible to you.”

“I’m apologizing because you have to deal with this.”

“That’s worse.”

Poppy frowned.

“How?”

“Because it makes you sound kind.”

“I am kind.”

Sienna gave her a look.

Poppy’s mouth twitched.

For a few seconds, the pressure broke.

Then Mr. Danner approached.

“We’ve checked the corridor camera.”

Both girls stood.

“There’s a camera?”

“It covers the entrance to the changing-room hallway, not the room itself.”

Poppy’s heart began pounding.

“What does it show?”

Mr. Danner looked at Sienna.

“At four-twelve, your mother entered the hallway.”

Sienna went still.

“At four-seventeen, she left.”

Poppy asked, “Was anyone else there?”

“Several people entered and exited during that time. We’re identifying them.”

“So it doesn’t prove she went into the room.”

“No.”

Sienna let out a breath she had not meant to hold.

Then Mr. Danner continued.

“But we also checked the volunteer log. The changing room was temporarily empty of assigned staff between four-thirteen and four-sixteen because of a medical issue in Studio B.”

Poppy stared at him.

“The same three minutes?”

“Yes.”

Celeste returned before anyone could answer.

“What exactly are you telling these children without me present?”

Mr. Danner turned toward her.

“We’re informing them that the review will continue.”

“The competition is over.”

“The event is. The scholarship decision is not.”

Celeste’s face hardened.

“You cannot hold my daughter’s scholarship because someone else’s costume was damaged.”

“We can delay confirmation while investigating possible interference with a finalist.”

Sienna looked at him.

“Do I still have first place?”

“The result is provisional.”

Her mother stepped forward.

“She won.”

Mr. Danner’s expression did not change.

“She received the highest score. That is recorded.”

“That means she won.”

“It means we need to determine whether any action by a representative of a contestant unfairly affected the event.”

Celeste laughed.

“A representative?”

“A parent can be considered part of a contestant’s support team for conduct purposes.”

Sienna felt sick.

“So if she did something, I lose because of it?”

Celeste snapped, “She did not.”

Sienna turned to her.

“I didn’t ask you.”

That landed harder than shouting would have.

Poppy saw it.

So did everyone else.

Celeste went pale.

The officials allowed the families to leave after collecting statements and contact information.

In the car park, rain had started.

Elena helped Poppy carry her bags while Miss Keller held the damaged costume inside a protective garment cover.

Sienna stood beneath the awning as Celeste argued on the phone.

Poppy walked back toward her.

“You forgot this.”

She held out the first-place trophy.

Sienna stared at it.

“I don’t want it.”

“It’s yours.”

“Maybe.”

“You danced. Whatever happened before that, you danced.”

Sienna took the trophy slowly.

“What if they take the scholarship?”

Poppy looked at her.

“I don’t know.”

“What if they give it to you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Would you take it?”

Poppy did not answer immediately.

Rain struck the pavement between them.

“Yes,” she said finally. “If the committee decides I earned it.”

Sienna nodded.

“I think I’d hate you for about ten minutes.”

“Fair.”

“Then I’d hate myself.”

“Less fair.”

Sienna looked down at the trophy.

“My mother says competition shows who people really are.”

Poppy glanced toward Celeste.

“Maybe she’s right.”

Sienna looked at her sharply.

Poppy added, “Just not in the way she meant.”

That night, Sienna sat at the kitchen table while Celeste paced.

Her father, Richard, had arrived home after hearing only half the story.

He looked from his wife to his daughter.

“Did you cut the costume?”

Celeste stopped.

“No.”

“Did you touch it?”

“No.”

“Did you go into the changing room?”

Celeste’s silence lasted one second too long.

Sienna felt her stomach drop.

Richard saw it too.

“Celeste.”

“I went in to find Sienna’s sewing kit.”

“The kit that was in Sienna’s case?”

“I didn’t know that.”

“You always know where my things are,” Sienna said.

Celeste turned on her.

“Enough.”

“No.”

Richard raised his hand.

“Let her speak.”

Celeste stared at him.

“You’re taking her side?”

“I’m trying to understand what happened.”

“There are no sides in this family.”

Sienna looked at her mother.

“That’s not true.”

Celeste’s face tightened.

Sienna stood.

“I told the officials you asked me to say the scissors were mine.”

Richard slowly lowered his hand.

Celeste whispered, “You what?”

Sienna’s voice shook, but she kept going.

“You asked me to lie.”

“I was protecting you.”

“From what?”

“From being dragged into this.”

“You dragged me into it when you used my name.”

Celeste stepped closer.

“You have no idea what people do when they want something from you.”

Sienna thought of Poppy offering her trophy back in the rain.

“What do you think Poppy wants from me?”

“She wants your scholarship.”

“No. She wants her costume not to be cut open.”

Richard closed his eyes.

Celeste looked at him.

“Say something.”

He did.

“Tomorrow morning, we call a solicitor.”

Sienna stared at him.

“To defend Mom?”

“To make sure we handle this correctly.”

Celeste exhaled.

Then Richard added, “And no one in this house lies to the competition committee again.”

Celeste went still.

Sienna picked up her trophy from the table.

For years, that object had represented the future her mother wanted for her.

Now it felt heavy for a different reason.

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She carried it upstairs and placed it in the back of her wardrobe, behind an old pair of practice shoes.

For the first time since she was six, she did not want to see first place.