Mr. Fahrenheit [open]

Marathon. Hated. School.
He hated everything about it. He hated the teachers. He hated the lessons. He really didn't care much for most of his classmates, though he would never say that to their faces. He hated that it took up his valuable time. Why should he come to school when he could spend this time fishing, or swimming, or something far more productive.
There was another reason Marathon hated school, but he kept it to himself, locked away somewhere in the back of his mind, and he'd long away thrown away the key. He hated school because it was so damn pointless. It was the government's way of keeping the children in line. Marathon didn't like being told what to do. Yes, Marathon really didn't like school at all.
Today, Mrs. Campbell had gone on for an hour about President Snow. Honestly, Marathon didn't give a mutt's ass about President Snow. He wanted so badly to stand up and tell Mrs. Campbell that, but he knew that he'd be in deep shit if he did, so he sat quietly and acted like he was listening. In all actuality, he was somewhere else. Not here.
He was in a field somewhere, beside a river. He knew this place very well. It was where he went when he didn't want to be here -- when he didn't want to face reality. He was sure he hadn't been to this place before, not physically. How could he? Nobody was allowed to leave the District. It was a place he'd made up when he was little, and it existed only in his mind.
Still, every time he thought of this field, this river, there was something all too familiar about it. It was something that he couldn't put his finger on, but it felt like he HAD been here before, not just in his mind. He couldn't explain it. It was just a feeling, something he was unsure of, like when you have a dream that you think you've had before, but you're not sure. It was like that.
Marathon was snapped out of his day dreaming by the sound of rustling all around him. He noticed all the other students packing their things and leaving the classroom, so he figured the teacher had, in fact, dismissed class. Finally. Lunch time. Marathon was starving -- he'd gone fishing before school this morning, and he'd worked up his appetite wrestling a large barracuda into the boat.
Packing his things into his bag, Marathon stood from his seat and let out a long yawn, stretching his arms... When he heard a ripping noise. Uh-oh. Looking down at his black pants, he noticed they now had a sizable gash around the leg area. The fabric was old and had been threatening to rip for weeks. Damn it. These were one of the only pairs of pants Marathon actually owned -- he usually wore a bathing suit. Winter was coming soon, and Marathon couldn't just wear shorts and bathing suits every day.
Sighing, Marathon made his way to the door of the classroom, into the hallway of the small school building. He'd have to ask his dad to buy him some new pants. Of course, his dad wouldn't want to. Things were scarce enough at home as they were. Maybe he could ask Jenna next door to sow them up for him -- she was good at that, if Marathon remembered right. Besides, she was really c-