You go back to Randall's and take the test.

The ride back to Randall's house was a somber affair. Your friendship had taken so many unexpected twists and turns over the past couple of months, but everything paled in comparison to the possibility that you might have impregnated your best friend. Randall can't be pregnant. He can't be, you chanted silently in your head.

Looking over, the results seemed obvious. How could we have been so stupid? Chastising yourself didn't change the fact that neither of you had taking precaution about birth control. The fact of the matter was, even if Randall wasn't pregnant now, the way the two of you had been acting, it would have happened eventually. Never once did you stop to think of using a condom. Never once did you bother asking him if he was taking the pill. Finally having a sex life seemed to have short circuited your ability to consider the consequences of your actions and from the looks of things, they were severe.

After pulling into the driveway, the two of you walked silently into the house. Inside, Randall kicked off his heels and started to make a beeline for the bathroom as you hopped over the back of his couch.

"Dude, what the fuck are you doing?" Randall said in a frustrated tone.

"What?" you asked, perplexed.

"Get the fuck in here," he said, before he timidly added, "please?"

You nervously got up and followed the trail of clothes Randall left behind on his way into the bathroom. Despite having become well versed in Randall's female anatomy, you felt strange to be in the bathroom knowing he was about to pee. Clad only a blouse at this point, Randall feverishly read the instructions on the box before tearing away the packaging. As he positioned the test between his legs, you could hear the faint sound of splashing.

Red faced and shaking, Randall reached out and grasped your hand. You'd never seen him so shaken before in your life. In the face of becoming Miss Card and having to adapt to her life, Randall had taken nearly everything in stride. Never missing a beat with a smile and his trademark sense of humor. Now, he appeared to be on the verge of tears.

Meanwhile, shock had taken hold. It seemed surreal to find yourself in these circumstances in the first place. You couldn't seem to feel anything aside from a stressful weight on your chest. Randall put the test on the sink and after wiping himself dry, moved stiffly out of the bathroom. You followed behind him, taking his lead. You didn't really know what to say or what to do.

"It's going to take a few minutes," he said matter of factly.

Arriving in his bedroom, he rounded on you, breaking the silence. "I don't know what we're so worried about, dude," he said casually. "I'm just a little out of shape is all. I can't be pregnant."

You so desperately hoped that was the case. "Yeah," you said in support, "it's all that fucking junk food you've been snacking on!"

Randall laughed nervously. "I knew I should've kept up Miss Card's exercise routine. I mean, I don't really look pregnant, do i?" You shrugged your shoulders. Randall disrobed completely. For once, seeing Miss Card's naked form didn't arouse you as usual. You felt frightened. "C'mon, dude. I don't look pregnant, right? Right?" Panic was evident in his voice.

You didn't know if you'd ever approached the subject of Miss Card's body objectively. To often, you were swept away by actually living your long held sexual fantasies to care. Now, with sex as the last thing on your mind, the subtle changes to Randall's body were impossible to ignore. So gradual over the weeks, you hadn't noticed were now so obvious.

As you thought back to the first night back from the hospital, you could see the contrast. Randall's breasts had changed significantly. You were glad that his chest had expanded and you'd never stopped to consider why. They were bigger by at least a cup size, if not more. His nipples had been a rosey pink, and were now darker and a little larger. His hips looked a little wider. And Miss Card's perfect, heart shaped ass definitely seemed a bit bigger as well. Impossible to ignore was the evident bump that had formed on Randall's stomach. Obscured by the **** proportion of his waist-hip ratio, at a side profile, it looked like the early stages of...

Your careful stare and **** to say anything seemed to provide Randall's answer. With a heavy sigh, he flopped backwards on his bed. Minutes of silence passed, before he asked flatly, "Tim... What are we going to do?"

"I don't know..." you said with a heavy sigh, sitting on the edge of the bed. You were careful not to look at him. As worried as you felt about what this could mean for your future, you felt a deep sense of guilt. If Randall really was pregnant, you were the one who made him that way. What would happen? The two of you were worried about what Principal Johnson would do if he caught you. As risky as it was, without being caught in the act, it would be difficult for Randall to get in trouble. Now, there was a very real piece of the evidence growing in Randall. At this rate, the rumors wouldn't stay rumors for much longer.

"I'm sorry, dude," Randall said softly.

Surprised, you asked, "Sorry? For what? This isn't your fault!"

"How is this not my fault? I didn't think twice about not having a period. Hell, I don't even know if the one I had was an actual period to begin with," he said, his voice full of a bitter sadness. "I hope you know I didn't mean for this to happen. I'll take care of things, okay?"

You were confused by his statement. What did he mean? "A-a-are you going to keep it?"

"I don't... I don't know. Just either way, I'm not going to let this fuck up your life." Suddenly sounding chipper, "You've still gotta go to college, ya know? You've got to live it up for the both of us." Somberly, he joked, "Heh... maybe having a kid'll be good way to remember you by."

You rounded on him. "What the fuck, Randall. What're you even talking about? I'm not just going to leave you high and fucking dry..."

He cut you off. "Dude, what did you think was going to happen at the end of the year anyway?"

The question rattled you. While you hadn't started just yet, it was time to start filling out your college applications. The nearest university was still a couple hours away. It'd been your plan to go to college together for so long, you'd forgot to consider that the circumstances were different now.

"I mean, I've already got a job. And Miss Card has... I have a life here that I can't easily leave behind. It'd look pretty strange if I followed you to school, ya know? Besides, your mom isn't gonna let you just hang around here forever." You hated what he was saying. Randall sat up. "C'mon, dude. You know I'm right."

You didn't know what to say. Between this and the possibility of a pregnancy, you were feeling overwhelmed. Unable to sit by, you got up from the bed. "I'm going to go get the test."

Hurrying out of the room, your mind was awash with what Randall had said. It was another sign in a growing body of evidence that things had changed, and were continuing to change, between the two of you. Male, female. Teenager, adult. Student, teacher. You were going to have to leave, he was going to have to stay. This realization almost seemed to dwarf the fact that Randall could actually be carrying your child. Despite not wanting to be a father, you had to admit that if you were in that situation, you were glad that it was with Randall.

Looking down at the applicator on the counter, you turned it over.

Two lines.

Pregnant.

Fuck.

Walking back into the bedroom, you didn't have to say anything. Randall was in the middle of pulling on an oversized t-shirt and upon seeing your face he said, "So that's it then, huh?"

"Yeah," you said solemnly.

Running a hand over the roundness of his stomach he said, "I can't believe I'm pregnant." He seemed to have calmed down a fair bit. "With my best friend's baby, no less. Fucking-a..."

"You seem awfully calm about it," you said, worriedly.

"I think I'm just in shock. At least it'll give me time for the idea to grow on me," he joked. "Or in me! Heh..."

You furrowed your brow. "Dude, really?" You could scarcely believe he was already cracking jokes when the both of you were in some serious trouble.

"Tim, if there was ever a time to make a joke, it's now. Besides, we're going into the weekend. There isn't anything we can do at the moment. First thing next week, I'll contact Dr. Kerry and see if we can't figure out what our options are. Let's let Future Tim and Future Randall figure it out."

You could scarcely believe how cavalier he was being, but he did have a point. "I need a fucking drink," you said.

"Good idea! Pour me one, too, won't cha?"

"Dude," you said, letting your eyes rest on his abdomen.

"Fuck," he said in realization.

Raiding Randall's cupboard for booze turned up a fine selection for you to choose from. A couple shots later, you could feel a drunk start to take hold and your concerns started to melt away. Worries relieved by a growing state of inebriation, you mused on the subject. Another shot. Randall was having your baby. Another shot. Why is it that there is part of me that feels oddly pleased? you wondered. Mr. Hanson, Sweaty Swanson, Alex! They all wanted Miss Card and now she's having my baby.

"Holy shit, Tim! How much did you have?"

"Jess a few," you slurred.

"Are you okay?" he asked, concernedly.