Chapter 9--Twist of Heart

                                    

                                          
"No no, (Y/N)! Below the ankle!"
                          
You groaned as you lifted up the skirt one more time, wobbling on the heels that Effie gave you, though you resisted rolling your eyes. Effie was only giving you the best advice right now in prep for tomorrow's interview and how you present yourself, but right now the heels you were given were so uncomfortable that you could barely walk a few steps without feeling the need to trip, and the skirt was so ridiculously long that it only added on to your problems. How could Effie even do this?
                          
"You sure about this?" you sighed in anger as you took another step in the shoes and almost overbalanced. Thankfully Peeta wasn't here to see you make a fool of yourself--he wanted the both of you to train separately, which was alright by you. You've been separate in the training centre, so this was no different. 
                          
"Yes, I am sure!" Effie chirped. 
                          
You shook your head. "I am NOT a heels person! And I can't even smile for long times on end!"
                          
"Well, really? I don't know how you manage to do it with Peeta around," Effie commented offhandedly. 
                          
This instantly made your cheeks turn hot. "He's my best friend, Effie," you retorted. "How else would I be so easy around him?"
                          
"Oh, well..." Effie stretched out on the 'well' for so long you thought you would never hear the end of it. "I was only wondering if you are only acting so hostile on me just because you're not thinking what I'm thinking. In terms of this relationship, that is."
                          
"What are you talking about?" you finally cried, kicking off your heels. You hated having to walk in them, and standing in them even hurt. 
                          
"Don't you know? You and Peeta are just perfect for each other," Effie gushed. 
                          
"STOP IT!" you cried. "He's just my best friend!"
                          
"Ahh, someone's denying it!" Effie cried. Then she immediately regained her smile. "See? I can still smile even though you are greatly aggravating and denying me."
                          
You groaned again. "Look, I don't even know why I have to go through this when I'm being bombarded by people wanting me to admit the fact that I do love Peeta!"
                          
"AHA!" Effie cried in triumph. "I knew it! You love him!"
                          
To this, you shrugged. "Well, that was easy. TO YOU, anyway! What if he doesn't love me back?" you cried. 
                          
"Why the hell are we talking about Peeta?" Effie finally asked, changing the subject just too quickly. "Get those heels back on, (Y/N)! We got stuff to do!"
                          
So back on the heels went on your sore feet, and you kept practicing your posture and smiling and presentation until the 4 hour mark was up.
                          
"Now wasn't that easy!" Effie commented finally, smiling gently at you.
                          
You shook your head. "No. No way. Never again," you muttered, gritting your teeth as you kicked the heels off again and hitched the skirt up to the calf.
                          
"Wait! (Y/N), wait!" Effie called, trotting on her own heels towards you. "I'm sorry! I really am."
                          
You turned to her. "You serious?"
                          
"I didn't mean to expose anything secretive if you didn't feel too comfortable," Effie finally said. "I just want to tell you this though. I fully support you and Peeta being together. Even if you both can't get out of the arena..."
                          
"We'll have to see to that in the end," you finally shrugged, an urge to smile finally returning to you as you felt the edges of your lips curve up. "But thank you, Effie."
                          
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"So, (Y/N). (Y/N), (Y/N), (Y/N)," Haymitch muttered to himself, tapping his finger on top of a table.