As the night was winding down and the results were becoming increasingly obvious, Phoebe had to fight back the tears prickling at her eyes.
" How the fuck is this happening?"
She turned to look at Helga, whose breathy whisper somehow managed to break through the sound of hard rain pummeling against the boarding house's windows, startling the others in the room - had they always been sitting this close? The light from Helga's laptop illuminated her tear stained face as she bit down on her lower lip letting out a quiet groan. Pushing her laptop away she wiped at her tears with one clenched fist, her other hand resting on her expanded belly as she began repeating her question over and over under her breath. Phoebe watched in silence as Arnold placed his hand over his wife's knee, squeezing it in soft encouragement.
"Don't give up hope. Things can still change." came Arnold's quiet appeal, but it was obvious from the strain in his voice, his half-hearted smile and the dull look in his eyes that he was also struggling to hold on to hope.
Phoebe, not accustomed to deluding herself, hugged her knees closer to her chest, leaning into her husband's arm. She knew exactly how this night was going to end, but had no idea what the future would bring.
It had been raining all day and the soft pit pattering sound of raindrops on the eaves of Arnold's window was doing wonders to sooth his office weary soul. Putting down the paperwork for his next project, he looked down at his watch to see that there were only ten minutes left until noon. Leaning back in his chair, he loosened his tie and stared absentmindedly out of the window.
The sky in Hillwood was as dull a grey as it had been all weekend, but Arnold was happy to see its streets brightened by the colorful umbrellas of its residents. He let his gaze wander for a few minutes before it caught on a child holding a bright pink umbrella. He smiled as he watched her jog down the street pulling along a woman he could only assume was her mother. Suddenly he felt hope for the future well up in his chest. Gathering his jacket and umbrella, he quickly shut down his computer, grabbed his bag and headed out of the door.
As a result of new "voter suppression laws" (as Helga liked to call them), Arnold could not vote early and instead had to ask his boss for a half-a-day work schedule in order to make it to the polls in time. Although he was not overly excited about a Clinton presidency - preferring Bernie's message of promoting democratic socialism over what he considered would be a continuation of the status quo - he thought about what having a female president would mean for his still unborn baby girl - she could be anything!
Arnold took long strides as he bounced towards P.S. 118, his thoughts of the future slowly turning to happy memories of days long gone. He was excited that he would be seeing most of his elementary school friends later that evening.
It was Helga's idea to hold an election party. As an avid Clinton supporter and feminist, she was happy that it was finally happening - the first female president, and against an alleged sexual predator nonetheless. Arnold couldn't help but agree to the arrangement. As a couple, they had been preoccupied with preparing for the arrival of their first child, and the election party would be a great way to share a warm night with friends they hadn't found time for in the past couple of weeks.
It had shocked him when he received Stinky and Sid's text messages two days earlier, refusing the invitation on the grounds that they were not supporting Hillary, but would instead be supporting Trump. He had tried calling them back, to open a dialogue, but found himself increasingly frustrated by their insistence that Trump would be good for the economy. He understood that they were struggling financially, and that they were upset with the system, but to vote for Trump who by all means aligned himself with racists and bigots was beyond flabbergasting.
During the conversation he tried asking them to identify which policies they thought would be beneficial in the hopes of understanding what they were thinking and convincing them that Trump would be the wrong choice. Disappointingly, all he got were SoundBits on ISIS, immigrants and TPP. When he pushed them further, reminding them that Trump had made racist, hurtful and threatening comments about people who their friends identified with, they informed him that the liberal media had him fooled and refused to continue the conversation, hanging up abruptly. He slowly rubbed his temples as he made his way to the polling lines sighing deeply when he remembered what happened later that night after telling Gerald.
The lines had been incredibly long at P.S. 118 as Hillwood was forced to close 5 polling sites after the last election, but Helga was happy for her chance to perform her civic duty in electing the first woman president. She whistled on her way home swinging her pink umbrella in her hand. The sun had somehow managed to peak out, and the warmth of its rays had begun drying the small puddles riddling the sidewalks. As she drew closer to the boarding house, Helga's lips tugged into a soft smile remembering the conversation a group of elderly women were having behind her on the polling line. She broke out into a full-blown grin when she thought of the elderly gentleman who accompanied them and who had seemed just as excited by the prospect of electing a female president.
As Helga turned the corner onto her street, she saw a group of three young men following a young black woman down the block. The catcalling grew louder as the young woman's steps grew quicker and the group of young people drew closer. Helga let her lips draw down into her signature frown as she drew herself up to her full height, placing one hand on her hip.
"Hey why don't you young chuckleheads make like cats and scram. Don't you know what your doing is sexual harassment?" The young men stopped abruptly, raising their weary gazes to meet Helga's firm glare.
"We were just telling her she should smile a bit more. Mind your own business lady. Shouldn't you be at home resting anyway?"
"Listen buck-o, she doesn't need to smile if she doesn't want to. Her grandpa could have died. She could have lost her job. She could have had a shit day. Her face could just be that way, or maybe she is just trying to avoid being harassed by some pre-pubescent clowns. I'll put it simply so even you dunderheads can understand. You - are making her - feel - unsafe, so go - away! Capiche?"
"Man lady, you are really barking up the wrong tree. Do you know who we are?" came the young man in the center's nasally reply. Helga's eyebrow rose in shock as he boldly took a step forward, giving the other two the courage to follow.
Not one to shy away from a confrontation, Helga stepped forward as well, now towering over the young men. She began making mental notes, sure to memorize the details of their pubescent faces just in case. With all that acne, and with such pathetic excuses for mustaches, there was no way they were more than 15 years old.
"'Does she care who you are?' is a better question." Helga grinned as she recognized the voice behind her and instantly took comfort in the hand that was now resting on her shoulder. "Let me think, hmm I am pretty sure the answer is no. Now be a good group of young men and heed this ladies advice. Ya'll ain't never gonna find a girlfriend if ya keep harassing people down the street, so go home, do your homework and get an education."
Gerald's tall athletic build, accompanied by the reappearance of Helga's fierce glare, intimidated the teens into submission. Muttering a few choice words under their breath, they left without so much as a protest.
"Thank you guys so much. They were following me for three blocks and to be honest, it was starting to piss me off." The young woman grabbed Helga's hand, pressing it firmly before letting it go to look up at Gerald, her eyes lighting up as her gazed lingered on his face.
"Don't worry about it. Just do us all a favor and get home safely" Gerald replied with a wink.
Blushing lightly the young woman opened her mouth to reply, but closed it abruptly when she noticed the ring on his finger. "Well, thanks again. I have to get going. Take care!" Helga watched the young woman round the corner yelling out a "Go Vote" before sharply elbowing Gerald in the ribs.
"Ow, what the hell was that for?"
"You better be careful Mr. playboy." Helga began as she once again started walking towards the stoop of the boarding house, Gerald jogging to keep up. "I saw that wink you gave her. You wouldn't want our dear Phoebe to hear about your escapades would you?" Gerald guffawed as they climbed the steps of the boarding house rolling his eyes at Helga's insinuations. When she reached for her pocket he grabbed her by the hand, turning her to face him.
"Me be careful? Look who's talking Mrs. 6 months pregnant. You know, you really shouldn't be picking fights with kids, especially with baby Arnold in there. " Placing a hand on Helga's stomach he began to coo, "Don't worry baby Arnold. Godfather Uncle Gerald will protect you." Helga began to giggle as she slapped his hand away.
"Hey, hey hey! Hands off the merchandise." Pulling out her keys from her pocket she began to open the front door. "We don't need your protection, and I told you already Gerald-o, it's a girl!"
"Yeah, Yeah, whatever you say."
Author's Note: Of course Hey Arnold isn't mine, though I love it's characters. Maybe this is just coming from my inner city child perspective, but I have always thought of Hey Arnold as a story about kids in the inner city. Growing up in New York, that means diversity to me. I imagine that most of the characters have very liberal views as do most millennials, so I wanted to try and have them have some of the same concerns and conversations as people I know. This election has been really hard on the people I know. If you are a Trump supporter, I hope that this fic will help you understand the perspective of the people I know, and I encourage you maybe to take some of the characters and have them take on your perspective. Or not. Maybe politics don't belong in fics, but I don't know. I think it's important. If you are going to criticise, please do so constructively. I know my writing needs a lot of work. I definitely don't feel like I am telling the story the way I would like, but I think it is a story that needs to be told. In any case... thanks for reading?
Also, can someone tell me if I am allowed to use politicians names. I mean they aren't non-historical I am breaking a rule, please let me know.