SPD fic
Hey, look! It's not RPM fic! I'm not torturing Ziggy for once! But it is still Power Rangers fic. Hehe, sorry guys. It's just my fandom of choice.
So this is very fitting, given that it's Shabbat (and Rosh Hashanah to boot!). Bridge Carson is the FIRST and ONLY canonically Jewish Power Ranger. Seventeen seasons of Power Rangers with over 100 rangers total, and only one is Jewish. And all we got of that was a throw-away line about how he's Jewish so instead of Christmas coming early, they could say Chanukah came early for him. So what about the rest of his life? What about the non-ranger moments we never got to see? Well, here you go. One Jewish moment in the Jewish life of the Jewish Power Ranger.
Title: Shabbat
Fandom: Power Rangers SPD
Rating: K, G, general audience by whatever rating system you use
Summary: see above
Z was engrossed in a new book, completely oblivious to the buzz in the common room around her. She finally had a night off all to herself and she had planned to take advantage of it. She had a soda, she had her book, and she wasn’t going to let anybody disturb her. Until Bridge walked in anyway. He was fiddling with something on the back of his head.
“Z, have you seen Syd? I need her help with my kippah,” he said.
“She’s out with her parents.” Z turned back to her book but Bridge just stood there.
“Can you help me, then? I can’t get my clips fastened.” She sighed and put her book down. She stood up and walked behind him to see what he needed. He was using one hand to hold a little skullcap in place on the crown of his head and another was trying in vain to close a small clip in his hair. She put her hands over his and he let go to allow her access.
“It might help if you took your gloves off,” she said, snapping the clips shut. The little skullcap was held firmly in place. She took a moment to admire it. It was blue silk with delicate silver stitching around the edge.
“Too many people here tonight. It’s overwhelming and then I can’t think because I see them all but I don’t know if I’m seeing them now or earlier. And I’m never sure if the emotions are my emotions or their emotions. Then I wonder if I’m really me or if I’m just a reflection of them.” He began to zone out on her and she moved to stand in front of him and draw his attention. It worked. He focused on her and smiled.
“You look awfully nice. Going out?” she asked. He was wearing black slacks and a dark green polo shirt. It was dressed up from his usual attire, anyway.
“It’s Friday,” he said. It was apparently the only answer she was going to get. She had learnt you don’t question Bridge about the nonsensical things he said, so she just smiled and nodded. She smoothed out some wrinkles on his shirt.
“Well, have fun,” she turned to go back to her book, but Bridge caught her arm.
“Want to come with me?” he asked. She looked down at her book and back at him. She started to say no, but he turned on the puppy dog eyes. “Free home cooked dinner from the best chef in town…” Her stomach rumbled and made the decision for her. She really could do with an actual real dinner. She agreed to go with him and he beamed at her. He waited while she put her book away and then led her out into the city.
They walked for half an hour, out of downtown, towards the edge of the city. She had asked why they weren’t driving and he’d just replied that it was Friday again. She still wasn’t sure what that meant but it was a nice night so it wasn’t all that bad, she supposed. The sun was setting and it was throwing beautiful streaks of reds, oranges, and deep blues across the sky. She was surprised when they stopped in front of a modest house in the middle of a suburban street. It was small and old but seemed well kept. There was a large patio that covered the entire front of the house. It had a chain link fence around the small well manicured lawn.
“Where are we?” she asked nervously. He smiled at her.
“Home.” He took her hand and led her through the gate, then up the steps to the porch. He didn’t knock, he just opened the front door and pulled her in with him. She was greeted with the smell of roasted chicken, potatoes, and freshly baked bread. The living room they were standing in was small and cluttered, but it was bright and warm. There were stairs and a hallway to her left and the hallway was absolutely covered in pictures. A tall grandfather clock stood in one corner ticking away the time. It was comfortable and she was immediately at ease.
“Ma?” he called out. There was a muffled voice from the back of the house. He let go of her hand and headed down the hallway. She followed, unsure of what else to do. They came out into a dining room with an elegant table set for two. There were candles, wine glasses, and most of the food was on the table already. There were swinging doors on the opposite wall and Bridge pushed through them into a deceptively large kitchen.
“Shabbat shalom, Mama. I brought a friend.” Bridge said. He hugged his mother and kissed her cheek.
“Shabbat shalom, honey. Quick, go set another place. It’s almost time.” She shooed him off. Z took a few steps into the kitchen, suddenly unsure of herself. Bridge’s mother was middle aged with the same soft brown hair as her son. She was a small woman with a round face. Her eyes, brown instead of blue, danced with delight and she smiled widely at Z. Not knowing what else to do, Z held out her hand.
“I’m Z,” she said. She wasn’t the nervous type, but she’d never done the family thing very well.
“Z… Elizabeth Delgado, yes? Michelle’s little girl?” Z was surprised. It had been a very long time since anybody had referred to her as her mother’s daughter. She nodded but must have suddenly looked wary because Bridge’s mother continued. “I knew your parents, sort of. Been a long time, but we met once, before you were born, and your mother kept me updated for awhile.” Z was still a bit suspicious. “It’s a long story.” She smiled and handed Z a bowl of sweet potatoes. Z took them into the dining room and Bridge pulled out a chair for her. She was just sitting down when Bridge’s mother came in with a wooden board covered with an ornate cloth. It was white with intricate stitching of a large, multi-branched tree. There was a square pattern around the edges and the minute details, right down to the leaves on the tree, were amazing. There were some symbols she didn’t recognize and the cloth looked very old.
“I didn’t know I’d be crashing a nice dinner. Bridge didn’t say. I’m sorry, Mrs. Carson.” she apologized.
“Oh, call me Hannah, please. Mrs. Carson is my ex-mother-in-law. The less said about that, the better. And don’t worry, you aren’t crashing anything. The more the merrier on Shabbat! Friends are always welcome at this house. Though Bridge should have told you what was going on.” She looked pointedly at her son and Bridge just shrugged. He took a deep breath and looked up as if reciting from memory.
“Shabbat starts at sundown Friday and lasts an entire day, through sundown on Saturday. It’s a day of rest, the most important holiday of the Jewish calendar, and we start it off with candles, blessings, and a special dinner. It’s a holiday and we get to have it every single week.” He waggled his eyebrows at her and she had to chuckle.
Hannah shushed them and started what appeared to be their traditional ceremony. She lit the candles and covered her eyes, reciting a prayer in a language Z didn’t understand. Bridge then poured three glasses of deep red wine. He held up his pewter cup and recited another blessing in the same language his mother had spoken. They all took a sip when he was done, and then Hannah pulled the wooden board towards her. She pulled the cover off to reveal two small loaves of braided bread. It glistened in the candlelight. Hannah called it challah and she had, apparently, made it herself. Bridge removed his gloves and Hannah stopped immediately.
“Bridgey, what are you doing?” she asked, looking sideways at Z.
“It’s okay, Mama. Just the three of us, for a few minutes, I’ll be fine. Besides, she’s kind of a yellowy-green with maybe a little bit of blue.” He wiggled his bare fingers at her. It was one of the few times she’d ever seen him gloveless.
“Is that good or bad?” she asked.
“It’s calming,” he answered, smiling. Bridge put his hand on one loaf and motioned for her to do the same, so she touched the bread too. Hannah recited yet another blessing and then they each tore a piece off the bread. It was light, but very sweet. Bridge left his gloves off for the rest of the meal.
Dinner was amazing. Bridge wasn’t kidding when he called his mother the best chef in town. Z hadn’t had a home cooked meal like that in her life and she was stuffed. They had explained the Hebrew blessings and spent some time talking about the holiday until Z was out of questions to ask. They updated each other on their activities over the past week and Z got to know Hannah a little better. It felt strange at first, but Z got used to calling Bridge’s mother by her first name. Hannah insisted on calling her by her given name, Elizabeth, claiming it was so much more musical. She had such a jovial face, Z couldn’t say no. And while her name sounded harsh on her own ears, when Hannah said it, it was smooth and pleasing. She didn’t mind so much, but she kicked Bridge under the table when he tried it. After two hours, with plates empty, they had finally run out of conversation. Bridge stood to take everything to the kitchen. The candles had sputtered out.
After Z helped Bridge clear the table, he slipped his gloves back on and pulled her towards the stairs. She followed him up and they emerged in a small hallway. It went from one end of the house to the other. There were three doors on her right and Bridge opened the very first one.
“This is my old room. I told Mom she should turn it into a guest room or something, but she insisted on keeping it for me for when I stay the night. It’s been like this since I was thirteen and joined SPD.” He sat down on the bed and bounced a bit while Z looked around. There was just enough room for the bed, a small desk, and a corner closet. One wall was lined with bookcases and she realized some of them were double stacked.
“You read a lot?” she asked. He nodded.
“When you can’t touch people and just being around them makes your head go all fuzzy, well, fuzzier, it’s really hard to keep friends. And kids always thought I was weird for some reason. Reading was a good way to be somebody else for awhile. Books meant I wasn’t alone.” Z nodded. She could definitely understand the lack of friends growing up, how isolating it could be. She sat down next to him on the bed.
“No dad?” she asked.
“No dad. He left when I was four. I was too much for him. Or he was too much for me. Or maybe we were too much for each other. He was grey and black all the time and I reflected that back at him.” He was staring off into space again and so she took the opportunity to really get a good look at the small bedroom he’d grown up in. The walls were pretty bland, but he had model rockets hanging from the ceiling. There were glow in the dark stars stuck up there as well; though she wasn’t sure they glowed much anymore. They looked as if they’d been there awhile. There were a few posters from science fiction movies that had some out more than a decade ago, but she suspected they were more just to have something on the wall than anything else.
There was one large window on the far wall, bookended by the closet on one side and the head of the bed on the other. The moonlight streamed in and glinted off the silver stitching on his skullcap, kippah she thought he’d called it. She was struck by the realization that there was far more to Bridge than they had ever given him credit for.
“Do you come home every weekend?” she asked quietly, still staring at his kippah.
“I try to get here most Fridays, sometimes on Saturday if Cruger lets me off. Doesn’t always happen. I usually have patrol early once a month or so,” he answered, looking away from the window, his attention focused on her again.
“I didn’t know you were so into your religion,” she said, reaching up to finger the silk of the kippah. He laughed outright.
“I’m not really. It’s more tradition and culture than religion for us at this point. We do it because it ties us together, Mom and me. It’s what we have. The rituals, the language; it’s all comforting. They held us together through all the mess I put them through then, they’ll hold us together through anything that comes in the future. It always has been, it always will be. It sets my mind at ease.” She didn’t fully understand, but she could see the difference in him tonight. She wished he could have it more often. He patted her knee and stood up.
“Time to get back to headquarters. I take over patrol from Jack at midnight.” Z stood up and followed him back downstairs. It was a small house, but it seemed the perfect fit for Bridge and his mom. She could see him growing up here, a small safe haven against the mental onslaught of the world. Hannah was in the living room, notes spread out over a wide coffee table. She was perched on the edge of the old, worn couch. She was wearing glasses low on her nose and looked over the rims as they stomped downstairs.
“It was really nice meeting you, Hannah,” Z said. Hannah waved her hands and came trotting over to the front door. She heard Bridge sigh behind her.
“You can’t leave without your blessing!” Hannah called out, stopping them. Bridge rolled his eyes, but stood still as his mother put her hands on either side of his head and lowered it to hers. Z watched in fascination as they closed their eyes and his mother spoke quiet words.
“Ye’simcha Elohim ke-Ephriam ve’chi Menashe. I’m proud of all you’ve accomplished this week from you inventions to your mental discipline,” she whispered before kissing Bridge’s forehead and releasing him. A blush slowly crept up his cheeks, but he was smiling. Z turned to leave but Hannah stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm.
“You have shared Shabbat with us, Elizabeth. You get a blessing as well.” She put her hands, so warm and tender, on Z’s head just as she’d done for her son. They leaned in together and Z closed her eyes.
“Ye’simech Elohim ke-Sarah, Rivka, Rachel ve-Leah. Thank you for visiting us this Shabbat night and thank you for all you’ve sacrificed to protect this city and this world. I’m proud of you for overcoming your past and rising to the challenges before you.” Hannah kissed her on the forehead just as she had done for Bridge and tears sprung unbidden to Z’s eyes. She had no idea a few simple words could affect her so deeply, and she wrapped Hannah in a hug.
“Thank you,” she whispered. Bridge took her hand and led her out the front door. Hannah stood and waved from the doorway until they turned the corner and couldn’t see her anymore. Z held tight to Bridge’s hand, leaning against him as they walked back to the academy under the glow of the street lamps.
“Your mom is nice. Thanks for inviting me,” she said once she felt more in control of her own voice. Bridge squeezed her hand.
“Shabbat shalom, Z.”
“Shabbat shalom, Bridge.”
So this is very fitting, given that it's Shabbat (and Rosh Hashanah to boot!). Bridge Carson is the FIRST and ONLY canonically Jewish Power Ranger. Seventeen seasons of Power Rangers with over 100 rangers total, and only one is Jewish. And all we got of that was a throw-away line about how he's Jewish so instead of Christmas coming early, they could say Chanukah came early for him. So what about the rest of his life? What about the non-ranger moments we never got to see? Well, here you go. One Jewish moment in the Jewish life of the Jewish Power Ranger.
Title: Shabbat
Fandom: Power Rangers SPD
Rating: K, G, general audience by whatever rating system you use
Summary: see above
Z was engrossed in a new book, completely oblivious to the buzz in the common room around her. She finally had a night off all to herself and she had planned to take advantage of it. She had a soda, she had her book, and she wasn’t going to let anybody disturb her. Until Bridge walked in anyway. He was fiddling with something on the back of his head.
“Z, have you seen Syd? I need her help with my kippah,” he said.
“She’s out with her parents.” Z turned back to her book but Bridge just stood there.
“Can you help me, then? I can’t get my clips fastened.” She sighed and put her book down. She stood up and walked behind him to see what he needed. He was using one hand to hold a little skullcap in place on the crown of his head and another was trying in vain to close a small clip in his hair. She put her hands over his and he let go to allow her access.
“It might help if you took your gloves off,” she said, snapping the clips shut. The little skullcap was held firmly in place. She took a moment to admire it. It was blue silk with delicate silver stitching around the edge.
“Too many people here tonight. It’s overwhelming and then I can’t think because I see them all but I don’t know if I’m seeing them now or earlier. And I’m never sure if the emotions are my emotions or their emotions. Then I wonder if I’m really me or if I’m just a reflection of them.” He began to zone out on her and she moved to stand in front of him and draw his attention. It worked. He focused on her and smiled.
“You look awfully nice. Going out?” she asked. He was wearing black slacks and a dark green polo shirt. It was dressed up from his usual attire, anyway.
“It’s Friday,” he said. It was apparently the only answer she was going to get. She had learnt you don’t question Bridge about the nonsensical things he said, so she just smiled and nodded. She smoothed out some wrinkles on his shirt.
“Well, have fun,” she turned to go back to her book, but Bridge caught her arm.
“Want to come with me?” he asked. She looked down at her book and back at him. She started to say no, but he turned on the puppy dog eyes. “Free home cooked dinner from the best chef in town…” Her stomach rumbled and made the decision for her. She really could do with an actual real dinner. She agreed to go with him and he beamed at her. He waited while she put her book away and then led her out into the city.
They walked for half an hour, out of downtown, towards the edge of the city. She had asked why they weren’t driving and he’d just replied that it was Friday again. She still wasn’t sure what that meant but it was a nice night so it wasn’t all that bad, she supposed. The sun was setting and it was throwing beautiful streaks of reds, oranges, and deep blues across the sky. She was surprised when they stopped in front of a modest house in the middle of a suburban street. It was small and old but seemed well kept. There was a large patio that covered the entire front of the house. It had a chain link fence around the small well manicured lawn.
“Where are we?” she asked nervously. He smiled at her.
“Home.” He took her hand and led her through the gate, then up the steps to the porch. He didn’t knock, he just opened the front door and pulled her in with him. She was greeted with the smell of roasted chicken, potatoes, and freshly baked bread. The living room they were standing in was small and cluttered, but it was bright and warm. There were stairs and a hallway to her left and the hallway was absolutely covered in pictures. A tall grandfather clock stood in one corner ticking away the time. It was comfortable and she was immediately at ease.
“Ma?” he called out. There was a muffled voice from the back of the house. He let go of her hand and headed down the hallway. She followed, unsure of what else to do. They came out into a dining room with an elegant table set for two. There were candles, wine glasses, and most of the food was on the table already. There were swinging doors on the opposite wall and Bridge pushed through them into a deceptively large kitchen.
“Shabbat shalom, Mama. I brought a friend.” Bridge said. He hugged his mother and kissed her cheek.
“Shabbat shalom, honey. Quick, go set another place. It’s almost time.” She shooed him off. Z took a few steps into the kitchen, suddenly unsure of herself. Bridge’s mother was middle aged with the same soft brown hair as her son. She was a small woman with a round face. Her eyes, brown instead of blue, danced with delight and she smiled widely at Z. Not knowing what else to do, Z held out her hand.
“I’m Z,” she said. She wasn’t the nervous type, but she’d never done the family thing very well.
“Z… Elizabeth Delgado, yes? Michelle’s little girl?” Z was surprised. It had been a very long time since anybody had referred to her as her mother’s daughter. She nodded but must have suddenly looked wary because Bridge’s mother continued. “I knew your parents, sort of. Been a long time, but we met once, before you were born, and your mother kept me updated for awhile.” Z was still a bit suspicious. “It’s a long story.” She smiled and handed Z a bowl of sweet potatoes. Z took them into the dining room and Bridge pulled out a chair for her. She was just sitting down when Bridge’s mother came in with a wooden board covered with an ornate cloth. It was white with intricate stitching of a large, multi-branched tree. There was a square pattern around the edges and the minute details, right down to the leaves on the tree, were amazing. There were some symbols she didn’t recognize and the cloth looked very old.
“I didn’t know I’d be crashing a nice dinner. Bridge didn’t say. I’m sorry, Mrs. Carson.” she apologized.
“Oh, call me Hannah, please. Mrs. Carson is my ex-mother-in-law. The less said about that, the better. And don’t worry, you aren’t crashing anything. The more the merrier on Shabbat! Friends are always welcome at this house. Though Bridge should have told you what was going on.” She looked pointedly at her son and Bridge just shrugged. He took a deep breath and looked up as if reciting from memory.
“Shabbat starts at sundown Friday and lasts an entire day, through sundown on Saturday. It’s a day of rest, the most important holiday of the Jewish calendar, and we start it off with candles, blessings, and a special dinner. It’s a holiday and we get to have it every single week.” He waggled his eyebrows at her and she had to chuckle.
Hannah shushed them and started what appeared to be their traditional ceremony. She lit the candles and covered her eyes, reciting a prayer in a language Z didn’t understand. Bridge then poured three glasses of deep red wine. He held up his pewter cup and recited another blessing in the same language his mother had spoken. They all took a sip when he was done, and then Hannah pulled the wooden board towards her. She pulled the cover off to reveal two small loaves of braided bread. It glistened in the candlelight. Hannah called it challah and she had, apparently, made it herself. Bridge removed his gloves and Hannah stopped immediately.
“Bridgey, what are you doing?” she asked, looking sideways at Z.
“It’s okay, Mama. Just the three of us, for a few minutes, I’ll be fine. Besides, she’s kind of a yellowy-green with maybe a little bit of blue.” He wiggled his bare fingers at her. It was one of the few times she’d ever seen him gloveless.
“Is that good or bad?” she asked.
“It’s calming,” he answered, smiling. Bridge put his hand on one loaf and motioned for her to do the same, so she touched the bread too. Hannah recited yet another blessing and then they each tore a piece off the bread. It was light, but very sweet. Bridge left his gloves off for the rest of the meal.
Dinner was amazing. Bridge wasn’t kidding when he called his mother the best chef in town. Z hadn’t had a home cooked meal like that in her life and she was stuffed. They had explained the Hebrew blessings and spent some time talking about the holiday until Z was out of questions to ask. They updated each other on their activities over the past week and Z got to know Hannah a little better. It felt strange at first, but Z got used to calling Bridge’s mother by her first name. Hannah insisted on calling her by her given name, Elizabeth, claiming it was so much more musical. She had such a jovial face, Z couldn’t say no. And while her name sounded harsh on her own ears, when Hannah said it, it was smooth and pleasing. She didn’t mind so much, but she kicked Bridge under the table when he tried it. After two hours, with plates empty, they had finally run out of conversation. Bridge stood to take everything to the kitchen. The candles had sputtered out.
After Z helped Bridge clear the table, he slipped his gloves back on and pulled her towards the stairs. She followed him up and they emerged in a small hallway. It went from one end of the house to the other. There were three doors on her right and Bridge opened the very first one.
“This is my old room. I told Mom she should turn it into a guest room or something, but she insisted on keeping it for me for when I stay the night. It’s been like this since I was thirteen and joined SPD.” He sat down on the bed and bounced a bit while Z looked around. There was just enough room for the bed, a small desk, and a corner closet. One wall was lined with bookcases and she realized some of them were double stacked.
“You read a lot?” she asked. He nodded.
“When you can’t touch people and just being around them makes your head go all fuzzy, well, fuzzier, it’s really hard to keep friends. And kids always thought I was weird for some reason. Reading was a good way to be somebody else for awhile. Books meant I wasn’t alone.” Z nodded. She could definitely understand the lack of friends growing up, how isolating it could be. She sat down next to him on the bed.
“No dad?” she asked.
“No dad. He left when I was four. I was too much for him. Or he was too much for me. Or maybe we were too much for each other. He was grey and black all the time and I reflected that back at him.” He was staring off into space again and so she took the opportunity to really get a good look at the small bedroom he’d grown up in. The walls were pretty bland, but he had model rockets hanging from the ceiling. There were glow in the dark stars stuck up there as well; though she wasn’t sure they glowed much anymore. They looked as if they’d been there awhile. There were a few posters from science fiction movies that had some out more than a decade ago, but she suspected they were more just to have something on the wall than anything else.
There was one large window on the far wall, bookended by the closet on one side and the head of the bed on the other. The moonlight streamed in and glinted off the silver stitching on his skullcap, kippah she thought he’d called it. She was struck by the realization that there was far more to Bridge than they had ever given him credit for.
“Do you come home every weekend?” she asked quietly, still staring at his kippah.
“I try to get here most Fridays, sometimes on Saturday if Cruger lets me off. Doesn’t always happen. I usually have patrol early once a month or so,” he answered, looking away from the window, his attention focused on her again.
“I didn’t know you were so into your religion,” she said, reaching up to finger the silk of the kippah. He laughed outright.
“I’m not really. It’s more tradition and culture than religion for us at this point. We do it because it ties us together, Mom and me. It’s what we have. The rituals, the language; it’s all comforting. They held us together through all the mess I put them through then, they’ll hold us together through anything that comes in the future. It always has been, it always will be. It sets my mind at ease.” She didn’t fully understand, but she could see the difference in him tonight. She wished he could have it more often. He patted her knee and stood up.
“Time to get back to headquarters. I take over patrol from Jack at midnight.” Z stood up and followed him back downstairs. It was a small house, but it seemed the perfect fit for Bridge and his mom. She could see him growing up here, a small safe haven against the mental onslaught of the world. Hannah was in the living room, notes spread out over a wide coffee table. She was perched on the edge of the old, worn couch. She was wearing glasses low on her nose and looked over the rims as they stomped downstairs.
“It was really nice meeting you, Hannah,” Z said. Hannah waved her hands and came trotting over to the front door. She heard Bridge sigh behind her.
“You can’t leave without your blessing!” Hannah called out, stopping them. Bridge rolled his eyes, but stood still as his mother put her hands on either side of his head and lowered it to hers. Z watched in fascination as they closed their eyes and his mother spoke quiet words.
“Ye’simcha Elohim ke-Ephriam ve’chi Menashe. I’m proud of all you’ve accomplished this week from you inventions to your mental discipline,” she whispered before kissing Bridge’s forehead and releasing him. A blush slowly crept up his cheeks, but he was smiling. Z turned to leave but Hannah stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm.
“You have shared Shabbat with us, Elizabeth. You get a blessing as well.” She put her hands, so warm and tender, on Z’s head just as she’d done for her son. They leaned in together and Z closed her eyes.
“Ye’simech Elohim ke-Sarah, Rivka, Rachel ve-Leah. Thank you for visiting us this Shabbat night and thank you for all you’ve sacrificed to protect this city and this world. I’m proud of you for overcoming your past and rising to the challenges before you.” Hannah kissed her on the forehead just as she had done for Bridge and tears sprung unbidden to Z’s eyes. She had no idea a few simple words could affect her so deeply, and she wrapped Hannah in a hug.
“Thank you,” she whispered. Bridge took her hand and led her out the front door. Hannah stood and waved from the doorway until they turned the corner and couldn’t see her anymore. Z held tight to Bridge’s hand, leaning against him as they walked back to the academy under the glow of the street lamps.
“Your mom is nice. Thanks for inviting me,” she said once she felt more in control of her own voice. Bridge squeezed her hand.
“Shabbat shalom, Z.”
“Shabbat shalom, Bridge.”