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It's midnight, and a chill jolts me awake.
That's the reason I always go to bed early; this particular occurrence happens every single night, and has been doing so ever since I was born. I don't know how, I don't know why, but I do know that this is the secret of every thirteener in the world.
That's what we're called; thirteeners. It took me forever to learn this, but that's what Jason Slate told me when I discovered him.
Ah, Jason Slate; a handsome young man with gray eyes, 18 years old, and a head of rich brown hair; an aspiring doctor, and the only person in this world whom I trust with my darkest secrets, despite the fact that I hate him.
Okay, so maybe that's not entirely true; I only hate him sometimes. By sometimes, I mean most of the time. But, when the Dark Hour rolls around, I can trust him.
It was ten years ago that we'd met; I was 7 and timid, and he was 8 and fearless.
See, the way it works is that the Dark Hour only exists for a select few; for the rest of the world, time stops but they simply don't realize it. Because of this, everybody would instantly throw any thirteener into the psyche ward, because duh. The idea of there being an extra hour after midnight? Absurd. Ludicrous. Ridiculous.
That's why there's an unwritten rule that thirteeners keep the Dark Hour a secret, and anyone who reveals it is on their own. Nobody wants to be convicted of being crazy.
The other unwritten rule of the Dark Hour is that what happens during the Dark Hour stays in the Dark Hour. Betraying a thirteener's secret is like betraying your closest family member or your best friend; it's simply unforgivable.
So, when the clock strikes thirteen, I get jolted awake by some mysterious force or another and I head out to the treehouse, where Jason meets me. I guess there's something comforting about not being alone when nobody can hear you; it's a bit frightening when the cars freeze in their places and people stop talking mid sentence, like somebody pressed pause on the whole world.
Jason is popular at school when the rest of the world is moving, which is probably the biggest reason that I hate him. Then again, sometimes I think I might be in love with him. How couldn't one fall for those eyes, that height, those words that he says?
Plus, I know him so well; ten years of learning the other's secrets really aids in getting to know somebody. I know that his favorite color is bright red, he can't sing to save his life, and he's unhappy. Very unhappy.
Everyone likes him, sure, and his grades are good enough, but his family is a different story. Half the time Jason's father is actually home, he's drunk, and his mother kind of hangs in the balance, staring blankly at a wall because she's buried too deeply in depression to do anything else. His grandparents think he's not doing good enough in school and in life, and his younger sister is always out partying with people she shouldn't even be talking to.
