So You're Saying I'm a Pregnant Man?

I looked down at my completely flat stomach.

Several girls surrounded Donna Shaw, who was crying so hard she could barely catch her breath.

She covered her face, sobbing, "I saw her throw up in the restroom several times… I thought she just had a stomach problem…"

Her roommate, Ivy Dunham, immediately jumped in. "Donna, you're too kind! Someone like her should be exposed!"

The crowd became even more worked up.

"How disgusting. She's just a freshman, and she's already pregnant?"

"No wonder she was always alone. She must have had something to hide."

"Expel her! She should be expelled!"

Donna lifted her head. Her eyes were red, and her voice shook. "I didn't mean to reveal her secret… I'm just… We can't accept people like her into our club. I'm scared she'll be a bad influence on the other students…"

Every word Donna spoke, and every expression she made, struck the right emotional chord with the onlookers.

Someone tapped me on the shoulder.

I looked up.

A young man wearing a Student Activities Board uniform stood before me, an ID badge hanging from his chest.

He was Henry Baker, a junior and the president of the Student Activities Board. He was also Donna's boyfriend.

His expression was stern. "I'm the president of the Student Activities Board. This is a serious matter that reflects badly on the school. Please come with me to the office."

I didn't move. Instead, I said, "I have a question."

Henry frowned. "What question?"

I glanced at Donna. What I said next wasn't loud, but everyone could hear me. "You said I'm pregnant. How did you know? Are you a doctor, or do you have X-ray vision?"

Donna's sobbing stopped for a split second. Then she wailed even harder, collapsing against Ivy.

"You! Why won't you just admit it? I saw you throwing up in the restroom…"

Ivy snapped, "That's enough! Donna tried to help you out of kindness, and this is how you repay her?"

The crowd started getting worked up again.

"Exactly. Donna was only trying to help her, and she acted like this."

"How ungrateful of her."

Abby Gellar, our counselor, pushed her way through the crowd. "Everyone, come with me to the office."

I nodded and followed her. My fingers brushed against my phone screen inside my pocket. The recording was still running.

A girl. They thought I was a girl.

Donna had assumed I was a girl, so she'd made up this pregnancy accusation. She'd chosen something a girl would inevitably be condemned for.

But she didn't know that I wasn't a girl. She'd played the wrong card.

Before I pushed open the office door, I touched the note in my pocket. The handwriting was identical to mine, and I couldn't help wondering who had written it.

It didn't matter anymore.

What mattered was that, in a little while, everyone would find out that I was male.

And how exactly was a man supposed to get pregnant?