Chapter 6 - The Statement

Three weeks after the final, the police asked Poppy to give a second statement.

This time, the interview took place at a local station.

There was no dramatic interrogation room.

No bright lamp.

No one raised their voice.

That almost made it harder.

Constable Hughes sat across from Poppy and Elena with a digital recorder between them.

“We’ve received forensic information from the costume and the thread found in Mrs. Vale’s coat.”

Poppy’s stomach tightened.

“Is it the same?”

“The thread is consistent in type and color with the thread used on the damaged seam. That alone cannot prove where the piece came from.”

Elena asked, “What about the scissors?”

“Microscopic fibers were recovered. Again, consistent with the costume.”

Poppy looked at her mother.

Elena’s face was unreadable.

Constable Hughes continued.

“Mrs. Vale has admitted cutting the costume.”

“So why do you need me again?” Poppy asked.

“Because the question is no longer whether she damaged it. It is what she intended and what risk the damage created.”

Poppy shifted in her chair.

“What do you want me to say?”

“The truth as you remember it.”

He asked her to describe the routine.

Where the cut was located.

Which movements placed pressure on that seam.

Whether she would have noticed the damage before walking onstage if she had not seen it in the changing room.

Poppy answered carefully.

Then he showed her photographs.

The costume looked different in police images.

Clinical.

Flattened.

Measured.

A ruler lay beside the cut.

The damage was eleven centimeters long.

Poppy stared.

“It looked smaller.”

“Fabric pulls together when it isn’t under tension.”

Elena’s hand closed around Poppy’s.

Constable Hughes said, “A costume specialist examined it.”

“A costume specialist?”

“A local theatre wardrobe supervisor.”

Despite everything, Poppy almost laughed.

“What did they say?”

“That the cut severed reinforced stitching. Under repeated movement, the seam likely would have opened further.”

“Likely?”

“Yes.”

“Would I have fallen?”

“We can’t establish that.”

Poppy exhaled.

For weeks, everyone had treated that question as if one answer would transform what happened.

If she could have fallen, Celeste’s act became frightening.

If she could not, it became merely cruel.

Poppy was beginning to hate the distinction.

Constable Hughes seemed to read her face.

“Intent and outcome are different things.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

Poppy looked at him.

He spoke carefully.

“People sometimes feel they need the worst possible outcome to justify being upset by what happened.”

Elena glanced at him.

Poppy sat back.

“I’m upset.”

“You’re allowed to be.”

“I also don’t want people saying she tried to injure me if she didn’t.”

“That is reasonable.”

“Can both be true?”

“Yes.”

Poppy looked at the photographs.

Good.

She needed that.

After the statement, Elena suggested lunch.

Poppy said no.

Then changed her mind.

They sat in a small café near the station.

Elena stirred soup.

“You were very careful in there.”

“They need facts.”

“You always become precise when you’re scared.”

Poppy tore bread into small pieces.

“I’m not scared of Celeste.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

“Then what?”

Elena waited.

Poppy sighed.

“I’m scared of what this becomes.”

“What do you mean?”

“A story.”

“It is a story.”

“No. I mean one of those stories where everybody has a role and then they never get to be anything else.”

Elena looked at her daughter.

“Celeste the monster. Sienna the victim. Me the poor dancer. You the hardworking single mother.”

“I am hardworking.”

“You know what I mean.”

Elena smiled faintly.

“Yes.”

Poppy leaned forward.

“I hate what Celeste did.”

“So do I.”

“But she’s Sienna’s mother.”

“Yes.”

“And Sienna still loves her.”

“Yes.”

“And sometimes when people talk about her, I can see Sienna deciding whether she’s allowed to say that.”

Elena was quiet.

Poppy continued.

“I don’t want to make that worse.”

“You cannot control every way other people tell the story.”

“I know.”

“You can control how you tell yours.”

Poppy nodded.

That afternoon, a reporter emailed Miss Keller.

The local paper had learned that police were investigating deliberate costume damage at a youth dance competition.

They wanted comment.

Miss Keller called both families.

Elena’s answer was immediate.

“No.”

Poppy surprised her.

“Maybe.”

Elena covered the phone.

“What?”

Poppy said, “If we say nothing, they’ll write it from rumors.”

Miss Keller was still listening.

“That is unfortunately possible.”

Elena frowned.

“What would we say?”

Poppy thought.

“That an adult interfered. That the competition reviewed it. That Sienna didn’t know.”

Miss Keller said, “You are under no obligation.”

“I know.”

Poppy looked at Elena.

“And no names.”

The paper published a short article two days later.

It did not name Poppy or Sienna because both were minors.

It quoted the competition organizer confirming that a parent had admitted deliberately damaging a finalist’s costume.

It stated that the winning dancer had not been involved.

It also mentioned that the scholarship sponsor had provided two awards after the review.

Online, people guessed anyway.

Some guesses were correct.

Celeste’s name appeared in a dance forum.

Then Sienna’s.

Then Poppy’s.

Sienna called at eleven that night.

“My mother says you leaked it.”

Poppy sat up in bed.

“What?”

“She says your family needed sympathy for the scholarship.”

Poppy’s anger arrived so quickly she could taste metal.

“She admitted cutting my costume.”

“I know.”

“And she thinks I needed to leak it?”

“I know.”

“Why are you saying it like that?”

“Because I’m not accusing you.”

Poppy pressed her fingers against her forehead.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it isn’t.”

Sienna was silent.

Poppy asked, “Where are you?”

“At Aunt Beth’s.”

“Again?”

“Dad and Mom are arguing.”

Poppy stared at the dark window.

“About the article?”

“About everything.”

“Do you want me to come over?”

“It’s almost midnight.”

“My mother works nights. I can—”

“No.”

Sienna’s voice softened.

“I just needed to hear you say you didn’t do it.”

Poppy felt hurt.

Then she understood.

“You thought maybe I did.”

“I didn’t know.”

Poppy swallowed.

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t.”

“I have to apologize for that one.”

Poppy lay back.

“Fine. Accepted.”

Sienna breathed out.

“My mom says Dad is betraying her.”

“How?”

“He gave the coat to the police. He told the committee what she admitted.”

“That is called telling the truth.”

“I know.”

“Does he?”

“Yes.”

“Does she?”

Sienna laughed weakly.

“No.”

The next day, Richard asked Sienna to sit with him.

He looked as if he had not slept.

“Your mother and I are going to live separately for a while.”

Sienna stared.

“For how long?”

“I don’t know.”

“Because of the costume?”

Richard shook his head.

“Because of what happened after it.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means the costume showed me things I had been refusing to look at.”

Sienna’s throat tightened.

“What things?”

“How often I let your mother make decisions for everyone because arguing was exhausting.”

Sienna said nothing.

“How often I told myself she was intense because she cared.”

“She does care.”

“I know.”

“Then why does everybody keep saying it like caring is evidence against her?”

Richard looked at her.

“It isn’t.”

“Sometimes you all make it sound like if she loved me, she couldn’t have done this.”

“No.”

He leaned forward.

“I think she loved you so much that she stopped seeing where you ended and her fear began.”

Sienna’s eyes filled.

“That sounds like something from therapy.”

“It is.”

“You started therapy?”

“Yes.”

She laughed through tears.

“Wow.”

“Your mother hates that too.”

“Of course.”

Richard smiled sadly.

Sienna looked at the floor.

“Are you leaving?”

“She is staying with your aunt for now.”

“Aunt Beth?”

“No. Aunt Beth refused.”

Sienna blinked.

“What?”

“She told your mother she could stay for one night, not move in.”

That sounded so exactly like Beth that Sienna almost laughed.

“Where is Mom going?”

“A serviced flat for a month.”

“Alone?”

“Yes.”

Sienna felt a sharp, unwanted ache.

Richard saw it.

“You can visit her.”

“I know.”

“You can love her.”

“I know.”

“You do not have to choose one of us.”

Sienna looked at him.

“People keep telling me what I don’t have to do.”

“What do you want us to say?”

“I don’t know.”

Richard nodded.

“That’s fair.”

Sienna visited Celeste two days later.

The flat was clean, furnished and impersonal.

Celeste had arranged Sienna’s old competition photographs on a side table.

Sienna noticed immediately.

“Why did you bring those?”

Celeste looked embarrassed.

“I didn’t want the place to feel empty.”

Sienna sat.

Her mother made tea.

For ten minutes, they spoke about school.

Then Celeste said, “You’re still going to that new studio.”

“Yes.”

“Your father told me.”

“Okay.”

“I watched one of their videos.”

Sienna braced herself.

Celeste surprised her.

“It’s different.”

“That is a diplomatic word.”

“I’m trying.”

Sienna looked at her.

“Are you?”

Celeste set down her cup.

“Yes.”

“Then stop blaming Poppy.”

Her mother stiffened.

“I do not blame her.”

“You said her family leaked the story.”

“I said it was possible.”

“You said they wanted sympathy.”

“I was angry.”

“You’re always allowed to be angry, and everybody else has to understand why.”

Celeste looked down.

Sienna continued.

“I need you to stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Making a new reason every day that what happened isn’t really your fault.”

Celeste’s lips trembled.

“I admitted what I did.”

“You admitted the action.”

“What else do you want?”

“The reason.”

“I told you. I was afraid for your future.”

“That is not a reason. That is a sentence that makes you sound like you did it for me.”

Celeste stared at her daughter.

Sienna’s hands shook.

“Did you want me to win because I wanted it?”

“Yes.”

“Only because I wanted it?”

Celeste looked away.

There.

The silence answered first.

Sienna felt something inside her settle.

Not break.

Settle.

Her mother whispered, “I gave up things.”

Sienna waited.

“I left work when your training schedule became serious. I stopped seeing people because weekends were competitions. Your father worked longer hours. Everything became built around this.”

Sienna’s throat tightened.

“So you needed it to mean something.”

Celeste looked at her.

“I needed to know I had not pushed us all this far for nothing.”

Sienna nodded slowly.

“That’s the first honest thing you’ve said about it.”

Celeste began to cry.

Sienna did not rush to comfort her.

That was new.

She sat across from her mother and let the truth remain uncomfortable.

After a while, Celeste wiped her face.

“I am sorry.”

“For cutting the costume?”

“Yes.”

“For asking me to lie?”

“Yes.”

“For making me feel like my dancing has to justify your life?”

Celeste closed her eyes.

“Yes.”

Sienna felt tears run down her face.

She did not feel forgiveness.

She felt space.

It was enough for that day.

When she left, Celeste did not ask whether she would come back.

Sienna turned at the door.

“I’ll text you.”

Her mother nodded.

Outside, Sienna called Poppy.

“How did it go?” Poppy asked.

“She told the truth.”

“All of it?”

“More.”

“Are you okay?”

Sienna looked up at the gray sky.

“No.”

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Then she added, “But I think I’m less confused.”

For the first time, that felt more valuable than being okay.