Chapter 7 - The Audition List

London sent Poppy a packing list that was four pages long.

She printed it at school because their printer at home had begun producing black lines through everything.

Maya read over her shoulder.

“Two pairs of technique shoes, performance shoes, resistance bands, sewing kit, first-aid supplies, black rehearsal wear, formal wear, bedding—do they want dancers or refugees?”

Poppy folded the pages.

“Very supportive.”

“I’m coming to the station when you leave.”

“You’ll cry.”

“I’ll laugh while you cry.”

“That is friendship.”

The hardship fund approved most of Poppy’s additional expenses.

She still felt guilty.

She was getting better at doing things while feeling guilty.

Miss Keller called that progress.

Elena called it Tuesday.

Poppy had three weeks before the summer program.

Sienna had four months before she could control the training grant in her own name.

That difference began to matter when an email arrived from the National Youth Dance Conservatory.

Both girls had been invited to audition for the autumn trainee intake.

Poppy read the email twice.

Then a third time.

The conservatory had been on her private list of impossible places.

She had never applied because the audition fee, travel and associated coaching costs seemed irresponsible without a realistic chance.

Now they had waived the fee for regional finalists.

She called Sienna.

“You got it?”

“Yes.”

“Are you auditioning?”

Sienna hesitated.

“You?”

“Yes.”

The answer surprised Poppy with its certainty.

Sienna laughed.

“Then yes.”

“Good.”

“My mother will say it’s too soon.”

“Do you care?”

Another pause.

“Yes.”

Poppy waited.

“But I’m doing it anyway.”

They registered.

The audition was scheduled for the week after Poppy returned from London.

For the first time, they had a shared future date unrelated to the sabotage.

That mattered.

At Amara’s studio, Sienna showed her the email.

Amara leaned against the piano.

“You want it?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Sienna frowned.

“Because it’s one of the best programs.”

“That is information.”

Sienna sighed.

“Because I want to train full time.”

“Why?”

“I like dancing.”

“You have spent half your life dancing.”

“Yes.”

“That still does not answer me.”

Sienna sat on the floor.

“You ask annoying questions.”

“It’s free with tuition.”

Sienna smiled despite herself.

Amara waited.

Finally, Sienna said, “When I dance now, sometimes I forget who is watching.”

Amara’s expression changed.

“That sounds important.”

“It feels important.”

“Then audition.”

Sienna looked at the mirror.

“I might not get in.”

“You might not.”

“My mother used to say never enter anything unless you can imagine winning.”

“Can you imagine losing?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Sienna stared.

Amara shrugged.

“If losing destroys the reason you danced, the reason needed examining.”

That night, Sienna told Celeste about the audition.

They met at the serviced flat again.

Celeste listened.

“You’re auditioning against Poppy.”

“With Poppy.”

“It is still competitive.”

“Yes.”

“Do you know how many places there are?”

“Twelve.”

“How many applicants?”

“I don’t know.”

“You should know.”

Sienna felt the familiar pressure return.

Then Celeste stopped herself.

She took a breath.

“Sorry.”

Sienna blinked.

“For what?”

“I was about to make it mine.”

The sentence was awkward.

Sienna appreciated it more because of that.

“I do need to know the numbers eventually.”

“Yes.”

“But not tonight.”

Celeste nodded.

“Are you excited?”

“Yes.”

“Are you frightened?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want help preparing?”

Sienna looked at her.

“What kind of help?”

“I can watch your variation.”

Her stomach tightened.

Celeste saw.

“I won’t.”

“No, I—”

“You don’t want me to.”

“I don’t know.”

“You looked scared.”

Sienna rubbed her hands together.

“I don’t want you to disappear from dance forever.”

Celeste’s eyes filled.

“But I also can’t go back.”

“I understand.”

“Do you?”

“I’m trying to.”

Sienna took out her phone.

“I could send you the video after Amara and I choose the variation.”

Celeste smiled carefully.

“I’d like that.”

It was the first boundary Sienna set that her mother accepted without arguing.

It felt almost too small to matter.

It mattered enormously.

Meanwhile, the police investigation moved toward a charging decision.

Elena received a call from Constable Hughes.

He explained that the file had been sent for review.

Celeste had admitted criminal damage.

The question of a more serious offense related to risk of injury was unlikely to proceed because evidence of intention was insufficient.

Elena listened.

Poppy sat across from her at the kitchen table.

When the call ended, she asked, “What does that mean?”

“It means she may be charged with damaging the costume.”

“Not trying to hurt me.”

“Correct.”

Poppy felt relief.

Elena noticed.

“You’re relieved.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t want that to be true.”

Elena nodded.

“Neither did I.”

Poppy looked at the unrepaired costume.

It still hung in the same cover.

“You can fix it now.”

Elena followed her gaze.

“Do you want me to?”

“I think so.”

“You think?”

Poppy stood and unzipped the cover.

The cut looked less shocking than it had three weeks earlier.

Fabric did not remember violence the way people did.

It simply remained cut.

Poppy touched the seam.

“I don’t want to wear it again.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I don’t want it hanging here forever like evidence.”

Elena stood beside her.

“What do you want it to be?”

Poppy considered.

“A costume.”

Her mother smiled.

“That I can do.”

They spread it over the table.

Elena brought out her sewing box.

Poppy watched her remove the damaged section of reinforcement.

“Can you make the seam invisible?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to?”

Poppy looked at the thread.

“No.”

Elena glanced up.

“No?”

“Can you reinforce it on the outside?”

“That will show.”

“I know.”

“Silver thread?”

“Something different.”

Elena thought.

She opened a drawer and pulled out a spool of deep red.

Poppy smiled.

“That.”

“You are sure?”

“Yes.”

Elena stitched a narrow line of red across the repaired seam.

Not dramatic.

Not decorative enough to look intentional from a distance.

But visible if someone came close.

When she finished, Poppy ran a finger along it.

“It looks like a scar.”

Elena frowned.

“Is that bad?”

“No.”

Poppy folded the costume carefully.

“I think that’s right.”

The local paper published an update when Celeste was formally charged with criminal damage.

This time, because Celeste was an adult and the case had entered public court records, her name appeared.

Sienna saw it at school.

Someone had left a printed article on her desk.

At the top, in black marker, someone had written:

CHEATER’S DAUGHTER.

Sienna stood very still.

A teacher entered and removed the page.

“I’m sorry.”

Sienna stared at the empty desk.

“Who put it there?”

“We don’t know.”

“Can you check cameras?”

“We will.”

She wanted to go home.

Instead, she sat down.

Halfway through the lesson, her phone buzzed inside her bag.

She ignored it until break.

Poppy:

Maya saw the post. Are you okay?

Sienna typed:

Fine.

Deleted it.

Typed:

No.

Poppy called.

Sienna went into a stairwell.

“What happened?”

“They left an article on my desk.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know.”

“What did it say?”

Sienna told her.

Poppy swore.

Sienna almost laughed.

“I didn’t know you knew that word.”

“I contain multitudes.”

Sienna slid down the wall.

“I want to quit school.”

“Reasonable for today. Bad long-term plan.”

“I know.”

“Do you want me to come?”

“You have class.”

“So do you.”

“That is not an answer.”

“No, I can’t come right now.”

The honesty helped.

Poppy continued.

“But I can meet you after.”

Sienna closed her eyes.

“Okay.”

They met by the river after school.

Poppy brought chips.

Sienna ate most of them.

“People think I knew.”

“Some people.”

“Enough.”

Poppy threw a chip at a pigeon.

“People like clean stories.”

Sienna looked at her.

“You said that weeks ago.”

“I was right.”

“You’re becoming unbearable.”

“London scholarship. I’m more sophisticated now.”

Sienna laughed.

Then she looked at the water.

“What if I never get away from it?”

“You will.”

“How do you know?”

“I don’t.”

“Great.”

Poppy nudged her shoulder.

“But I think eventually people get bored.”

“That is comforting in a depressing way.”

“Also, you’ll do other things.”

“What if every audition panel knows?”

“They might.”

Sienna looked at her sharply.

Poppy did not soften it.

“You asked.”

“Would it affect you?”

“If my mother had done it? Maybe.”

“That’s the point.”

“No.”

Poppy turned toward her.

“The point is whether you let the fear decide everything before anyone else gets the chance.”

Sienna stared.

Poppy shrugged.

“My mother says annoying things too.”

“That sounds like Elena.”

They sat until the river darkened.

A week later, Celeste entered a guilty plea.

She received a community order, restitution for the damaged costume and associated costs, and a temporary ban from attending events run by the competition organization.

There was no prison sentence.

There was no dramatic courtroom confession.

The magistrate described the act as deliberate, harmful and particularly troubling because it involved pressure around a youth competition.

Celeste stood quietly.

Richard attended.

Sienna did not.

Neither did Poppy.

Poppy was in rehearsal when Elena texted the result.

She read it during a water break.

Miss Keller asked, “You okay?”

Poppy looked around the studio.

“Yes.”

And she was.

Not because the sentence felt perfect.

Because a decision had finally been made somewhere she did not have to make it.

That evening, Celeste called Sienna.

“I wanted you to hear from me.”

“I already know.”

“Of course.”

Sienna waited.

“I pleaded guilty.”

“I know.”

“I’m going to do the community hours.”

“I know.”

“And pay the costs.”

“I know.”

Celeste almost laughed.

“You really do know everything.”

“No.”

Sienna leaned against her bedroom wall.

“I know the court part.”

Her mother became quiet.

“What don’t you know?”

“How we do the rest.”

Celeste breathed in.

“Neither do I.”

For once, she did not pretend certainty.

Sienna found that she could stay on the phone.

They spoke for twenty minutes.

Not about dance.

Not about court.

About a television show they both hated and kept watching.

When they said goodnight, Sienna felt guilty for enjoying the conversation.

Then she remembered what her father had said.

You can love her.

She added her own sentence.

You can love her without giving back the keys.

Two weeks later, Poppy left for London.

At the station, Elena cried first.

Maya claimed victory because Poppy cried second.

Miss Keller hugged her.

Then Sienna arrived running, five minutes before boarding.

“You’re late.”

“I know.”

“You’re never late.”

“I’m experimenting.”

Poppy laughed.

Sienna handed her a small envelope.

“What is this?”

“Open it on the train.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

Poppy narrowed her eyes.

“Your mother is rubbing off on you.”

“Take that back.”

They hugged.

It lasted longer than either expected.

When Poppy boarded, she found her seat by the window.

The train began to move.

Elena waved until the platform disappeared.

Poppy opened Sienna’s envelope.

Inside was a small strip of silver-blue fabric from the spare costume she had worn in the final.

Sienna had written one sentence on a card.

For the day we learned winning was the least interesting thing about us.

Poppy read it twice.

Then she placed it inside the front pocket of her notebook.

Outside the window, the city widened into tracks, warehouses and summer fields.

For the first time, the future did not look like one narrow opportunity that could be stolen with a pair of scissors.

It looked larger.

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That frightened her too.

She kept going.