Arsenic Levine / 6

IT'S BEAUTY THAT DRAWS YOU IN....

Is physical perfection possible? Can the cheek bones be too high, the lips too full, the hair too shiny or too soft? Can the eyes be too large, or the slope too great? I suppose that they can, of course. But I know that I am beautiful. I am part of everything that is beautiful in the world just as everything in the world that is beautiful is a part of me. Nature created the slope of my eyes, the fullness of my mouth, the rise of my cheeks, the hue of my hair. Nature has created many beautiful things, and I am only one amongst them.

My father always told me that I was beautiful and that there was nobody who could hold a candle to me. I never believed him, at least not until I grew into my body. Now that I am eighteen I am sure of it, confident in everything that I see when I look in the mirror, and I pity those girls whose skin is filthy from too much time spent outdoors (how I loathe those lower district girls, with their contempt for those of us who have more and better opportunities than their lives have afforded them!). Their flesh is marked with pox or with evidence of acne, but mine is smooth and beautifully dark in spite of the fact that I don't spend too much time outside. I don't have to do a lot to take care of it.

My eyes are the deepest brown without reaching a true, coal black, and I like to think that they hold a hint of the real danger that someone of my intelligence can be to someone less well-educated. They turn up at the corners with that almond shape that I know men like so very, very much. My lashes are thick, rimming my eyes and giving me what I've been told is a seductive, sultry look. They are my best feature, or so I'm told. It helps, since my nose is just slightly too sharp at the tip, and my eyes are a good distraction from the physical imperfections. There are so few.

My jaw line is firm, square, the jaw of a leader, someone who is cool under fire and who is in control. My lips are full and dark without makeup, which is a luxury that we choose not to afford in my family, so that we can make way for bigger and more important things, such as nice clothing and shoes and higher quality food so that we can remain strong in our family. Strength is of the essence. Didn't you know? I know that I am beautiful. Now you know it too.

Never mind that my breasts are just a little bit too small, or that for a woman I'm terribly tall at six feet and one inch. My legs are long and lean, muscular enough to allow me to take regular runs when the mood strikes me. My belly is flat, and there is no sign of my ribs like the girls in some districts which shall remain nameless. I hear tell that I have a wonderful bottom, but of course that isn't a part of my body I'm able to reflect upon, since by its nature it is behind me.

Oh, I am beautiful. The visual is simply amazing, is it not? You can see it now for yourself, shoulder length black hair, soft and black, not blue like some. I am hard, and I know it. It shows in my face. Do you wonder why? Because there is no such thing as physical perfection. I am strong, and I am intelligent. But I use my eyes much more than I should, in order to compensate. Auditory beauty is something I will never experience. How terrible must it be to go without ever hearing the sound of raindrops on the roof, of music playing softly in the distance. And isn't it terrible that my father finds it necessary to play the pan flute when I am nearby, able to see him, but not hear him.

MY NAME IS ARSENIC AND I'M JUST AS DEADLY...

It would be a mistake to underestimate me, you realize. A person who loses a single sense often regains what they have lost in other areas. I can feel even the slightest change in the wind, or footsteps on grass or concrete. I can recognize you by your smell. Did you know that? Just. by. your. smell. My nose tells me more than your ears ever could tell you, but I have trained myself to do that. I must. Because, you see, the Hunger Games are a real possibility for me, even with a handicap. Do you think that the Capitol cares a trifle for the fact that I am unable to hear predators approaching me from any direction? No. But they are just the ones who might make the mistake of thinking that I am not a contender in the Games, should I be reaped. They are mistaken, and you would be too, if you thought I do not know my own limitations, or moreover, that I have made up for them.

Oh, I've made up for them. Made up for them in spades.

My whole life has been spent considering possibilities. My parents chose only to have one child because of the possibility that one day, I would be called up on the stage of the district square to take my place alongside a boy from my district so that I could go into the Hunger Games to fight for my life. I remember once, in school, a reference to The Most Dangerous Game. There is no game more deadly than I am. Not a single beast of the wild can think the way that I can, not even one of the Capitol's muttations. I doubt that many of my human companions here in district six can compete with me. And I'm the one considered to have a handicap? I think not!

Oh! Call me pompous all you want. Tell me that I'm conceited, that I have a big head, that I think too highly of myself and will ultimately be brought down. You're wrong, of course. There's more to me than a pretty face and a nice body. There's more to me than my lack. I am intelligent, quick witted, and my father says I'm wiley, like a fox.

It's all about education, you see. Not just going to school, but paying attention to what the teachers tell you. Learning everything that you possibly can about everything. Learning to keep your head down, stay out of trouble, and learning to be useful. Because goodness knows that if you fail to be useful to the Capitol, the Games are only really just beginning for you.

I'm bound for college, if we can find a way to afford it, and if I can make it into school, what with my "disability" and all. I still have one more Games to make it through as well. If I can, then I'm golden. If not, then it won't really matter, will it? Chem's my thing, but I've been thinking more and more about engineering. The Capitol needs engineers for so many reasons. Maybe I could even get out of district 6 and move there one day if I'm an engineer. There's no telling. But I'm sure going to try.

I'M JUST NOT THAT INNOCENT...

History isn't something I like to examine. It's a difficult thing to take out, dust off, and really look at, regardless of who you are or where you come from. Most of my early childhood I don't even remember, but then who needs to? It was typical, like any other childhood in district six. I went to school, came home, had two parents who loved me, even if they were often a bit hard on me.

I was born deaf. That much I do know. When I was too young to remember my parents had me tested to find out what was going on, and they were told that it was a genetic defect that robbed me of my hearing. I'm only glad that I didn't have it only to suffer the loss later on. My mother always says that I don't know what I'm missing this way, and I suppose that she's right. Regardless, it still irritates me when Father plays his pan flute as though he's not got a care in the world, and there I am, just wishing that I could touch the thing to feel the vibrations coming through it and get a sense of what he was playing. He never lets me do that, though.

School has always been harder for me than for most. I'm unteachable, really. The language I share with my parents is one that we created ourselves, gestures and nods and small facial expressions all have meaning to us. My teachers have never been privy to that kind of information, and therefore I've always been alone, me and a textbook out of which I have to study independently in order to learn anything. It's lucky I'm smart. I might have failed out or dropped out of school long before now.

Now that it's almost over, I'm relieved. My parents have always been a huge support, and I'm closer to my mother than to my father. She's always been an enormous help to me. Mother makes and sells small gadgets, mostly of her own devising and things that are meant to make life in the districts easier. She refuses to sell them to the Capitol, and in some ways I can't blame her, though the difference in our household income would be phenomenal if she made the decision to do something more with herself. She's worth it, but seems sometimes not to believe in herself. And isn't that what the Capitol does? Makes people stop believing that they can do things that they were born to do?

This last year I've spent mostly keeping to myself. Friends are a liability. They get sent into the Games, or maybe this year I risk being sent into the Games with them. A couple of years ago I had friends. One died and another simply vanished. I still don't know what happened to her, but I've heard talk that the Capitol accused her of treason. There are rumors about what happens to people accused of treason. I don't even want to think about it. Not that being muted would make much of a difference to me. I don't tlak anyway. It's too much effort, even though I'm sure I know how.

I'm looking forward to the future. There are so many things out there waiting for me if I can just make it through the next reaping and be accepted into college. If I'm lucky enough, I will become an engineer and have the hope in myself that my mother lacks. I will do it for both of us. And I don't particularly care who I have to kill to make it through that far. I know things, thanks to my mother's experiments. I know how different elements work together, and I know about chemistry and physics and engineering. There are things that others wouldn't think of, and I feel that I have an advantage over the common man. How much competition can there be in the Capitol anyway? They are so vain! I wonder what I'd look like with tattoos on my face....

I wanted to try this in first person but found it very difficult to do the personality in first person. I'm trusting that Are's personality shows throughout the other sections sufficiently. Clearly she's high on herself, but devoted to her education and, for that matter, to anything she loves.

Played by Julia Jones.