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Peter loved life at the mansion, but as November dragged on and turned into December, he got lonely. Every year with his family he'd celebrate Chanukah. They'd light the menorah, play dreidel, give each other socks (among other things, but socks was the tradition), and spend time together. Peter and his two sisters would all gather around the dinner table and watch their mother light the candles while saying a prayer for eight nights at sundown.
Occasionally his mom would let him or Wanda light the candles since they were old enough for her to trust them not to burn themselves, or anything else for that matter, but it was always her saying the prayer. The woman of the house is supposed to say it, but there was no one here at the school to do it. When Peter left for school, his mom gave him a box of random junk that he might want to use, but wouldn't think of bringing. This was the first time since he got to the school that he pulled the box out of his closet.
Peter sat on his knees and carefully dug through the box. He picked up a blue, yellow, and silver menorah and held it up to look at it. He searched a bit more and found a box of candles he didn't know were in there. His hand brushed against a wooden dreidel, but he'd have no use for that with no one to play with.
He looked out the window, seeing the sun start to set, and he left his room to go to the dining hall. It was too early for dinner, so nobody else was there. Peter set the stuff down on the table, realized he forgot a lighter, and ran to Bobby's room to ask if he had one. John used to be his roommate, so Peter hoped he left one behind.
“Hey, Bobby,” Peter waved. “Do you have a lighter? Or maybe a match? Something like that.”
“Hey. Yeah, I think so. Let me check,” Bobby said, walking to John’s old nightstand. Peter followed him into the room. “Here,” he said, tossing the lighter to Peter. “What did you need it for?”
“It's nothing, really,” Peter said. “I'll give it back in a bit. Can I borrow it tomorrow too?”
“You can just keep it. There are still like fifteen more hidden around John's old area.”
“Thank you,” Peter said before running off.
Peter got back to his station in the dining hall and set up the menorah with one candle in it. He made sure to place a paper plate underneath the menorah before starting. Using the lighter he got from Bobby, he lit the center one and recited the prayer aloud to himself, since no one was around to hear or see him, and he lit the one candle for the first night. He remembered the prayer from watching his mother sing it every year. The boy sat alone in the room, watching the single candle burn down.
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The next night, Peter returned to the dining hall with the menorah, three candles, and the lighter. He returned to the spot he was at before and set a paper plate on the table. When he put the menorah down, he realized he forgot to clean the cooled wax out of the tubes where he put the candles. He cursed to himself and went into the kitchen looking for toothpicks.
Peter came back in a box of toothpicks in hand, but he stopped when he saw Jean inspecting the menorah.
“Sorry, I'll move it soon,” Peter said, taking the menorah from her.
Jean handed it to him. “What is it?” she asked.
“It's a menorah. It's for a Jewish holiday. Usually the mother, wife, or oldest daughter would do the lighting, but it's just me this year.” That sentence made him sad. He had to admit to himself that he was alone there. “I'll only take like five minutes and then I'll be out of your way.”
Jean nodded. “I'll leave you alone, then.”
“Thank you,” Peter said while she walked away. He didn't want to be alone, but he had no one to share this with.
He sat down and started picking the wax out of the menorah. Peter used his superspeed to do this since he told Jean he'll be gone soon, though normally he'd do it in normal time. Then again, normally he'd be with his family. Once it was clean, he set the menorah down on the plate and stood up.
Peter placed one candle in the center and the other two on the right side. His mom would usually put the candles on her left so they'd look correct for him and his sisters, but since it was just for him he did it on the right. He lit the shamash, recited the blessing, and lit the candles from left to right.
He told Jean he'd only take five minutes, so when his time was up he blew out the candles and went up to his room.
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The third night he walked back to the dining hall alone again. He ran into Rogue on the way there.
“You're not running everywhere? That's different,” Rogue said to him.
Peter shrugged. “Can't a guy like to take his time?”
“Not when it's you who we're talking about.”
He nodded to her with a smile and walked past. Peter hadn't been running to and from his room because his mom always wanted to take things slow during the holidays. She'd tell him every year to slow down, but he never listened. The only time he'd listen was while cleaning the wax out of the menorah the night after, since he'd get impatient waiting for his sister to finish cleaning hers. It was always a thing for his family where his mom and twin sister would each have a menorah to light since she was getting older and it would eventually be her job to do it for her family too. Peter was doing a lot of things the last few days that he hasn't done before.
Peter went through the same routine as the last two nights. He set down a paper plate, cleaned out the menorah, though today was easy since the candles didn't burn fully last night, and placed three candles and the shamash in the menorah. He stood up, recited the blessing, and lit the three candles left to right.
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The fourth night was the same. Peter went to the dining hall, set down a paper plate, cleaned out the menorah, placed four candles and the shamash in it, stood up, recited the blessing, and lit four candles left to right.
The fifth was the same process. So was the sixth and the seventh.
On the eighth night, Peter went to the dining hall. He had the box of candles with only nine left in the package, the lighter was in his pocket, and he carried the menorah.
When he entered the dining hall, he saw two people sitting at the table he used every night before. He walked by, heading to one across the room. Peter decided tonight he could just say the blessing in his head.
“Hey, Peter,” Bobby said from the table.
“Hey!” He said cheerfully, pretending he wasn't crying on the inside because this was the last night and he couldn't even do the tradition right. “Thanks for letting me borrow your lighter. I won't need it after tonight,” Peter said.
“That's ominous, but I know what you mean,” Kitty laughed.
Peter laughed too and nodded, though he didn't believe she understood. He started to walk off again when Bobby stopped him by continuing to speak.
“Where are you going?” Bobby asked.
“Just over there. I'll leave in a bit,” Peter said.
“Why? Jean told us you were celebrating Chanukah alone, so we came here to do it with you. Neither of us have had a Chanukah with our families since we got here,” Kitty said. “If you don't want us here, we can leave. It's just that Jean said you seemed upset that you didn't have anyone to do this with.”
Peter looked between the two of them, searching for some kind of sign that this was a joke or a prank. His eyes filled with tears and he chuckled while wiping them away with his sleeve.
“Thank you,” he said with a shaky voice. His body was betraying him and he wouldn't stop crying.
Kitty took the candles and menorah from his hands and hugged him. She held him tightly while Peter calmed down. He pulled away, whispering, “Sorry.”
“Sit,” Kitty said, taking the candles out of the box and placing them in the menorah.
“One sec,” Peter said, flickering in and out of sight before returning with a paper plate to put under the menorah. “There.” He took the lighter out of his pocket and handed it to Kitty.
Kitty lit the shamash and started singing, “Baruch ata Ado-noi Elo-heinu melech ha-olam, Asher kid-shanu bi-mitzvo-sav, Vi-tzee-vanu li-had-leek ner shel Chanukah.” She lit each candle, left to right, and sat down next to Bobby. They talked while the candles burned, sharing stories and traditions they'd do with their families.
Bobby looked at Peter with a hopeful smile. “You wouldn't happen to have a dreidel, would you?”
Peter gave him a toothy grin and ran back to his room. He handed Bobby the dreidel instantly and dropped some poker chips he stole from Gambit on the table.