I just managed to clear the fence, hearing the last bark of the neighbour's dog dying down.
"Ooh, that stupid mutt!" I muttered, walking over to Mike who breathed out a sigh of relief.
"Whew, I really thought he had you there," he said "I guess...this means we have to take the long way home?"
"Yeah, sure, let's go," I shouldered my bag and was about to leave when I heard Mike letting out a snort. I looked at him and noticed that his face was twisted into a mirthful grimace, his hand over his mouth.
"What? What's so funny?" I demanded.
"Uh, Wyatt?" he began.
"Do you have your books?" he asked.
"Yeah, right here," I said, patting the straps of my knapsack.
"Do you have that girl's phone number?"
"Yeah, it's in my pocket," I answered, turning around to walk back home when his next question ruined my day.
"Where's your pocket?"
"What do you mean, where's my pocket, its right..." my voice trailed off as I patted my bare leg. Oh, you have got to be kidding me! I thought.
My jeans were ripped off when the dog attacked me, and I now found myself with nothing but my navy blue striped boxer shorts to hide my shame. A little late for that, come to think of it. At that point, Mike could not contain his laughter a second longer and was soon on his knees gasping for sweet air. All the while, my face had turned from red to purple with the shame of being caught with my pants down.
"Not bad, Wyatt; all you need now is some clowns make up and a costume. If you're lucky you might make a little extra money doing children's parties!" he said before he burst out laughing again.
"Oh, shut up and get me a cardboard box or something! Better yet, get me my pants!" I snapped.
The cardboard box suggestion only made him crack up even worse. My eyes darted around for an old lady who might cause a scandal or even a group of guys or girls who might be from the neighbourhood.
The first day of school ended up on a comical note, at my expense; story of my life.