Tribute or Victor

Chapter 8

"(Y/n) hurry up! We need to get you ready for your interview," Tafida snaps from the other side of the stall door. You had rushed into the nearest bathroom the second you were able to sneak away from your escort and designer, trying to find somewhere to take a deep breath. You had succeeded for almost three minutes before they realized you were missing, and quickly found your hiding place.

"(Y/n) I will make the security guard unlock this stall if I have to," Tafida threatens, and you could imagine her pointing a finger at the door. With a sigh, you unlock the door, listening to the little click as it swung open, and your escort practically jumped on you. "Don't you ever sneak away like that again young lady," she scolds you, the way a parent would their child as she drags you out of the bathroom, and back out into the crowd of tributes and their ecstatic designers.

"I found her. Now quickly. We must get you two back to your changing rooms so we can get you ready for you interviews with Ceaser," she announces, keeping her fist tight around your arm. Her nails we're digging into your skin, causing a stinging sensation that made you want to cringe. It surprised you that her nails, sharpened to the point, didn't cut straight to your bone.

After an elevator ride that seemed to take forever but was really only a few seconds, you were taken down a familiar hallway, and soon you were sitting in the same small steel box they called a room. The room gave you the shivers, as if it was trying to close in on you.

You can hear Tafida and Gizmo talking about something on the other side of the closed door, but it's so lowly mumbled that it's impossible to make out.

The hushed murmers go silent for a minute, and then your door is pushed open by Gizmo who has a bright smile on her face, and a black dress bag on a hanger in her hand.

"Ok dear. Lets go ahead and get you all dressed up," she says, but it's obvious that she wasn't as excited as she normally was, even if only by a tiny bit. Whatever Tafida talked to her about just outside your door must have not been good.

Reaching up, Gizmo hooked the hanger on the rack on the door, and started to help you unzip and unbutton all of your tribute parade clothes. Seriously who puts zippers on sparkly, polka dotted tee Shirts? When you were left in your undergarments, Gizmo spoke up again.

"Close your eyes," she stated, giving you a bright smile. You couldn't tell if she was genuinely excited, or just putting on a show for you so you would actually get into the dress.

"No I think I'll keep my eyes open," you retort, giving her a dark look.

"(Y/n) please? I promise this won't be like the tribute parade. Tafida made me have you wear that. It's my first year as a designer, and she doesn't exactly trust me, but I picked this one out, and it really isn't bad," she started blabbering on and on about the dress. Looking at her expression and listening to the tone in her voice, you realized she was being genuine.

With a sigh you stood up and held out your arms, telling her that she could put the dress on you. "Just don't stab me in the back," you say in a serious voice, but Gizmo chuckles.

"Promise," she says, holding a hand up as if she was swearing. Only then did you close your eyes.

The next few minutes were sort of complicated. Gizmo was trying her best to guide you into the dress with no sight, and there might have been a few trips and stumbles, but eventually she was able to pull the straps up over your shoulders. The dress felt very light, making you assume that it was either very short, or very thin. Neither of those options sounded very pleasing.

"Can I look now," you ask, patting your hands around the dress to try to create a mental image of what it might look like.

"Not yet. The makeup crew is going to do your hair and face while I go grab the shoes, and then you can look."