The Noble War// Tate Langdon

What's Wrong?

Lylah's POV

"Tate?" I asked. He was staring down the hallway. He didn't respond.

"Tate??" I asked a little louder, but still not wanting to cause attention. He blinked and snapped his head towards me.

"Sorry." He said.

"Are you ok? You've been in your own little world for like a week."

It's been a week.

They were still holding Candle Light Vigils for them.   

Tate and I haven't gone to one, the freaks weren't invited.

"Lylah?" He said. He huffed a baby laugh, not big enough for anyone else to hear. No one was allowed to laugh, it seemed like.

"What?" I asked.

"You zoned out too." He said. I didn't dare smile. Tate grabbed my hand lightly and walked to class. I was almost being dragged along with him, it was hard to walk when you felt the eyes of other people staring into your soul. Perhaps searching for a sign, or proof that I was the one who did it.

But truth be told, I felt as bad as the rest of the students. Maybe even worse because of what I did to her before she was murdered. What kind of cold blooded person would kill innocent teens?

Tate rubbed his thumb against my hand as we walked in. Mr. Harmon looked at me strangely, as he's often done before. Tate squeezed my hand. I looked at him, to let him know that it was okay. Even though it wasn't, it was really kinda creepy. The way he looked at me isn't a way you'd look at one of your students, it's the way you would look at your wife... When she's naked. Tate rolled his eyes and we took our seats. At least I wasn't the only one he looked at like that. There's this freshman, Hayden. She's like really smart, skipped 2 grades. But Mr. Harmon looks at her like she's just a play thing. A girl to be toyed with.

He passed back our tests and told us to be quiet as we checked our answers. Of course, 13 year old Hayden the genius aced it. Tate got a C- and I got a B+.

"Dammit." I nearly muttered.

"Oh no, guys she got a B. Watch out she might kill us too." A boy whispered towards me.

This was the seventh time this week that I was accused of murder.

I got up from my seat and pushed the door open as the boys laughed at me. Tate gave me a glance as my eyes watered. I walked out and practically ran to the girl's bathroom. I sat in a stall and cried.

This is killing me. They think I killed not one, but two innocent people. Teenagers. With families and responsibilities. How could I do that? Why would I do that? Granted I did beat Chelsea up a couple times, but I was only giving her back what she gave to me. I'd never go so far as to killing her. I heard a knock on the door.

"Tate, go away." I said.

"It's not Tate, are you ok?" A boy asked.