Hope

CHAPTER THREE

Aldar, Abigail's stylist, was moments away from releasing her for the chariot ride. She had been dressed head to toe beautiful shades of blue and black, with a dress that hugged her curves and accentuated her bright white smile.

The blues would flash in and out, lighting up just as jellyfish do in the darkness of the sea. Never had she seen anything like it—this could give her the sponsors she needed to survive.

"Thank you, Aldar," she spoke, gratefully. Though his personality was a bit much for her to handle, she knew he meant well and he had done her a huge favor. "This is beautiful."

"You're beautiful," a voice echoed hers, but not her stylist's; it had been her mentor's.

Abigail tried to ignore the butterflies rising in her stomach. Finnick Odair was known to be a flirt; he spent more days in the Capital rather than in his own district now.

She saw him leaning against the doorframe of the room. Abigail wondered how long he had been there and asked herself if she had done anything cringe-worthy within the last few minutes.

As if it was going to matter in two weeks time—she'll be dead and it will all be for nothing. Abigail Gray knew she had no chance of winning the games, even through Finnick's promise.

"I'm surprised you're not shirtless yourself, Odair," Abigail changed her tone. "Isn't that what you do to get sponsors?"

She had a lighter tone but a knowing look, making Finnick chuckle. He enjoyed the girl's spirit and ability to seem strong despite the situation.

He also enjoyed the fact that she didn't kiss his feet like everyone else.

He began walking toward Abigail, until he stood in front. Her heels had made her a bit taller than she was previously, though they still weren't eye-level. Her size was her biggest weakness, and Finnick knew that that could be her downfall in the arena.

However, it could also be her greatest strength if utilized correctly.

"There are other ways," he quietly spoke, moving a piece of hair behind her ear. Abigail felt her cheeks heating up and tore her eyes from him, not wanting to allow herself to fall for his ways; she could not allow herself to become distracted if she wanted to live. "You leave the sponsors to me," he continued, "for now, go out on that ride and smile. Don't make it cheesy—you volunteered and need to show your bravery, even if you don't feel it."

Abigail nodded. She knew she could do that.

As Abigail began to walk away from him, Finnick felt his heart drop. He was going to do whatever he could for the girl in lights, but he couldn't guarantee she could make it out alive.

The brunette had found Mayfair who had been talking to her fellow district partner. Ronan had a similar getup to her own, with a suit flashing lights and slicked back, dirty blonde hair making him seem from another time.

He did not look like the boy that was reaped just a day ago; Ronan looked confident and handsome. With Finnick Odair as a mentor, he was sure to get sponsors if he kept that act up.

Was Finnick really on her side, after all?

The two exchanged pleasantries before moving along with Mayfair to the chariot. This had been Abigail's first chance to see the other tributes and she had not been disappointed. District 1 and 2 had definitely held volunteer career tributes, as usual. They were big, the boys holding muscles bigger than the poor girl's head. Though she was crafty, smart, and knew the inner workings of a spear, Abigail knew by appearance she could be mistaken for a 12-year old based on size alone.