Back in junior high, no teacher would ever let me, Patrick Gauthier, into the Home Economics classroom. I must have been the only student who got a D in the class. Here I was, fifteen years later, hanging out in the same classroom, putting the finishing touches on my Halloween costume. I hadn't gone to a Halloween party since high school. How things had changed since then. As a kid, I wanted to be a pilot or firefighter, but then I discovered I was afraid of heights, especially after I fell off a ladder and broke my arm, so I'd never make it as either. Not once did I ever say I wanted to be a high school history teacher.

While many of my friends went off to Vietnam, I went to college and fell in love with history. I thought I was a pretty cool teacher.

My sister, Christine, talked me into going to this party, claiming she was tired of seeing me alone. What if I liked to be alone?

Being alone wasn't all that great. Christine hoped to set me up with one of her gay friends, convinced I'd fall in love, and then I'd never be lonely again. Maybe one of them would be good enough to take home for the night. There was one boy I loved once, but he went off to Vietnam like so many others and never returned.

Focus, Pat, you have to finish this costume before I miss the party. Christine would never let me hear the end of it if I blew it off.

"Good night, Mr. Gauthier!" one student shouted, passing the classroom, followed by  another and another student. "Happy Halloween!"

"Happy Halloweeen, Kyle... Melissa... Morgan! Good night! Damn it!"

I pricked myself with the stupid needle again. There was a reason why I got a D in Home Economics. At least my Joker costume looked great. I was proud of my accomplishment. In our senior year of high school, David and I went as Batman and the Joker. Back then, he was the Joker and I was Batman. David and I were close, as close as two boys could ever get. Too close. So close, he joined the Army to prove a point to his father and uncles. To me, he didn't prove any point. Joining the Army and fighting a useless war would never change him to be the man his father wanted him to be. He'd always be the same handsome, sweet David.

As I tried on my costume, the classroom door suddenly slammed shut. It's just the wind, I told myself. What wind? The classroom was at the end of the hall and all the windows were closed. Maybe it was a student, attempting to scare the only teacher left in the building.

There was always a prankster or two. The sound of metal crashing startled me as if a row of lockers had swung open. In my costume, I planned on getting the prankster. As I opened the classroom door, I discovered an eerily quiet, dark, empty hallway. I didn't see one locker door open.

As I walked slowly down the hallway, the walls creaked and a low voice hissed my name, "Patrick... Patrick... " I knew I shouldn't have watched the horror movie marathon last night, alone in my apartment with the lights out. What could I say? I liked a good scare. This building was so old, I tricked myself into believing that ghosts lurked within the walls. Mr. O'Brien, the old science teacher, hated me because I blew up the classroom once. He died ten years ago. I wondered if his ghost haunted me on this Halloween night.

There it was again... that voice. "Patrick... come out, come out wherever you are!"

"I'm right here, asshole!" I called out. "Come and get me!"

At the end of the hallway, I took a left. Stopped in my tracks, I spotted a shadow on the walls. My mind ran wild. I couldn't believe I was tempted to turn around and sprint down the other hallway and out the backdoor, but my car was parked out front and I needed to go this way. What if this shadow was an axe-murderer or something? It's just in your mind.

Taking a deep breath, I decided to face my fears and overactive imagination. As the shadow came to life, I swore I saw a shotgun or axe. Maybe it was a chainsaw. The figure looked subhuman.

I'm dead...

Attempting to keep my cool, I turned around and swiftly walked in the opposite direction. If I ran, then that would prove I was scared, even though I was scared shitless.

"Patrick!" the axe-murderer shouted. As he trampled down the hall, my swift walk turned into a run. At this point, I was running for my life. So what if I looked like a coward?

But he was too fast for me. I was never a great runner. He grabbed me from behind, wrapping his arms around me in a bear hug. "I always knew you'd make a great Joker."

In his arms, I nearly passed out. "No, you didn't," I said in a whisper, barely able to talk, so overcome with emotion. This was no axe-murderer. "You said I'd make a shitty Joker and forced me to be Batman."

As he slowly released me, I turned around to see my closest and dearest best friend I ever had, standing in front of me as Batman. For a minute, we remained silent. Finally, he removed his mask, revealing his tear-stained cheeks. "Hi, handsome," he said.

"David... what are you doing here?"

"I'm here to take you to Chris's party."

"No... what are you doing here? I didn't think... I didn't think you were ever coming back. I didn't think... you never..."

Cupping my chin in his palms, he kissed my mouth. The kiss shut me up, and I nearly forgot all about the time that had passed. He had a lot of explaining to do, but I had all the time in the world to hear it.

A/N Thanks for reading this little story. I may use these characters NaNoWriMo.