#luckily. my mother is a godsend and she has shut all this down as it comes her way

[paradoxicalpaldeann]

does someone ever just say something and you're in absolute and utter fucking disbelief as to how they thought that was an okay thing to say

[temilyrights]

ask her out

Summary: Alex Blake x Fem!Reader. Your crush on Alex is getting out of hand, so the team calls you out on it and tries to convince you to ask her out. 

A/N: Hello! This is my first time writing for Alex, but I’ve been rewatching season 8 and completely feel in love with her all over again. I definitely will continue writing for her if people are interested.  As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated :) Enjoy!

Fluff, light angst, and a little nsfw/smutty. James doesn’t exist in this fic but she’s still referred to as Blake because I forgot her maiden name was Miller. 

Alex’s eyes flick to you as you step into the room, the door shuts behind you with a click that earns the attention of the students in the hall. Her speech doesn’t falter, drawing back the students to her lecture, she smiles at you though, subtlety telling you she’d be done in a few minutes.

You lean back against the wall and watch. This was the first time you’d seen her teach. You didn’t get the art of linguistics like she did, but you couldn’t help but be captivated by the passion in which she taught. She looked comfortable, confident, and relaxed. It was nice to see. At work there tended to be a constant furrow of her brows due to the stress of the cases, but here, none of that was present.

You didn’t want to admit it, but it was attractive. The way she controlled the room and quizzed her students with such confidence...Your schoolgirl crush had been active since the first time you met her but by god, this was going to spin it out of control.

“Okay, that’s all for today. I’ll see you next week.”

The students quickly pack up their stuff, the rustle of paper and bags along with the screeching of chairs filling the room. A few of them shoot you interested looks as they exit, their eyes falling to the gun strapped to your waist. You don’t pay them much attention as you push yourself off the wall and make your way to where Alex is packing up her own things.

“You were early.” She says in way of greeting. You lean against the table beside her and shrug.

“Wanted to finally see the legendary Dr Blake in action.”

She shakes her head with a small laugh, slipping the last papers into her bag before putting it onto her shoulder. She looks at your gun and arches her brow. “And you couldn’t leave that in your car?”

“Habit.” You shrug. You really hadn’t thought much about it to be honest, but the half-smile on her lips makes you happy you were wearing it. You liked making her smile.  

“Right.” You stand up properly and you fall in step with her as you make your way out of the room and down the corridors towards your car. “So, what did you think?”

You tilt your head, a guilty smile crossing your lips. “Still not my thing, but if I was going to attend a linguistics lecture, you’d definitely be the tutor I’d pick.” oh my god were you flirting?

She looks at you with interest, humour in her eyes as she hums. “Well, there’s still time.”

Your cheeks tinge pink and you quickly avert your gaze, laughing lightly to try and cover up your reaction. Luckily, you’re at your car now, so you unlock the doors and slide in and by the time Alex has moved to get in the other side your cheeks are back to their normal colour.

“Thank you for this again.” She says as you strap your seatbelt on and put the keys into the ignition.

“It’s not a problem.” You smile. Her car had broken down a week ago and she’d been stuck relying on the subway and cabs to get around. It sucked, especially when she had days that switched between lecturing and at the BAU, so you’d ended up offering to give her lifts. She’d tried to refuse but you knew how frazzled she’d been every time she arrived. She’d eventually relented and accepted your offer to pick her up from Georgetown.

“Still, you didn’t have to.”

“I know, but I wanted to.”

Alex smiles, her eyes soft. The way your heart thumps in your chest has you scrambling for a change in conversation.

“Plus, it’s not for free.” She arches a brow as you smirk. “I want coffee and you’re buying.”

She breaks out into laughter as you pull out and onto the road.

---

After that, it becomes harder to ignore the butterflies in your stomach every time you see her. You felt ridiculous for letting the feelings take control, but you couldn’t help the way your eyes always travelled to where she was in the room. Her desk being opposite yours did not help.

It’s about two weeks later after she’s left for a class (she finally had her car back) that Spencer hesitantly approaches your desk. You look up at him with a frown, noticing the way his fingers were drumming against his leg.

“Is everything okay with you and Alex?” He asks sadness and concern deep in his voice. Your eyes widen slightly in surprise.

“Yeah, of course. Why?”

“You keep sending her these sad looks, and you won’t stop watching her. Do you not trust her? Did something happen?” He pressures, a slight dread to his tone. You knew how important Alex was to him, the idea that something was wrong would not do him good.

“Of course, I trust her. Nothing has happened. I promise.” You look around the room to make sure no one else is listening. JJ’s lips are sitting in a subtle smirk, but her eyes remain attached to the paperwork in front of her. She was obviously listening, and you didn’t know whether to be grateful or not that she hadn't joined the conversation. You look back to Spencer who’s frowning.

“Then why do you keep staring at her?”

“I don’t.” You try to refuse, but your cheeks are already turning pink.

“You do. When we’re in here working your eyes flick to her roughly every seven minutes.”

“Seven minutes? No that’s ridiculous.” oh god. oh god. oh god.

“Hers is about every 10. Although last Tuesday it nearly halved in time. She never looks sad though whereas you do.”

“Alex doesn’t stare at me.”

JJ chuckles from her desk, and finally stands up and makes her way over. “Game is over Y/N. You’ve been called out.”

“Game?” Spencer frowns, “What game?”

“The game is which both Y/N and Blake pretend they don’t have a thing for each other.”

“I don’t have a thing for Alex.” You bristle, but your cheeks betray you as they turn pink.

“Right, uh-huh.” JJ laughs.

Spencer’s eyes widen as the realisation hits him. “Oh.” He seems to turn an almost pale shade of green, obviously thinking about the woman who was practically a mother figure to him with someone wasn’t the nicest thing. “Well, uh, I think she feels the same.”

You scoff, “No she doesn’t because there isn’t a thing.”

Spencer smiles genuinely, “Last Tuesday, you wore a shirt that was a lower cut than normal. That was the day Alex wouldn’t stop staring at you. I didn’t make the connection until now. If she’s getting coffee, she’ll almost always offer to get you some too. On the jet, after a bad case, you always sit next to her because she makes you feel safe and relaxed. You listen to her talk about linguistics even though you find it boring. You both are constantly aware when the other is in the room. When-”

“Okay, okay, okay!” You shout, cutting off his ramble. “You win. There may be some feelings but it’s just a crush and I’ll get over it.”

“Or you could just ask her out?” JJ laughs.

You shake your head, “No. We work together. It would be unprofessional, and really uncomfortable for everyone if it didn’t work out. Plus, just because she looks at me occasionally doesn’t mean she likes me like that.”

You did silently feel proud that Alex hadn’t been able to stop looking at you when you wore that shirt, but you could find someone attractive without wanting to date them so really it didn’t mean anything.

“You smile more when she’s around. You should ask her out.” Spencer says, rocking on the balls of his feet slightly.

You sigh and shake your head, but he continues before you can speak. “We should tell the people we care about that we care about them. You both deserve to be happy.” A shadow crosses his face before he pulls a smile back to his lips.

JJ clears her throat, “Spence is right. Ask her out.”

You look between them for a moment and then release a long dramatic sigh, “Fine. Okay. I’ll do it.”

JJ claps her hand while Spencer smiles. You can only groan.

---

The next morning the team is called to Colorado for a case. JJ keeps sending you looks, and Derek won’t stop smirking which means he knows and by extension, Penelope probably too (though she’s yet to say anything). She’s terrible at keeping secrets which means your days are numbered until Alex finds out.

“Why do they keep looking at you?” Alex asks quietly from beside you on the jet. You shoot JJ a glare and turn to face Alex. Your heart immediately starts pounding in your chest when you realise just how close her face is to yours. You clear your throat as you turn away.

“Who knows.” You shrug, burying your face into the book in your hands. Alex watches you for a moment longer before turning back to her own book.

You glare at JJ again over the top of your book and Alex pretends not to notice.

The second the jet hits the floor you’re in case mode. It’s not until the evening that you finally get to sit down properly. Everyone’s still at the police station waiting for the dinner that Rossi and Derek had gone to collect.

You collapse into a chair and yawn, rubbing your eyes tiredly.

“Here,” Alex says as she approaches, holding out a fresh cup of coffee.

“You’re a godsend, Alexandra Blake.” You release a satisfied sigh as you accept the cup and take a sip. Alex moves to sit in the chair beside you arching her brow.

“Alexandra, huh? No one has called me that in a long time.”

You shrug, “It’s a pretty name.”

“It means-”

“Defender of Mankind.” You cut her off and enjoy the impressed look she sends you. “Did my research.”

“I’m proud.”

You roll your eyes, “Please, looking up a few name meanings isn’t exactly difficult, so don’t get your hopes up.”

“My hopes are officially low, don’t you worry.” She smirks and takes a sip of her own coffee before looking back at you. “What other names did you look up?”

“Mine and the rest of the teams. Couldn’t have you thinking you're special.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” She holds your gaze, and it isn’t until JJ enters the room saying something about the food being here that she looks away.

---

The case only lasts a few days and before you know it, you’re back on the jet on your way back to Quantico.

Penelope’s waiting in the squad room, practically jumping on her feet as she welcomes you all. Her eyes flick between you and Alex with absolutely no subtlety and you have to suppress a sigh.

She follows you to your desk and you pray she doesn’t question you with Alex still in the room.

“So?” She asks as you take a seat at your desk. She’s trying to talk quietly but in Garcia’s terms, that’s just normal volume. You look at Alex who’s standing by JJ’s desk, her eyes meet yours and she smiles at you with a slight furrow of her brows. You look back to Penelope.

“No.”

Penelope’s face drops, “Why did she say no? You’re amazing and wonderful and-”

“She didn’t say anything. I didn’t ask.” You turn back to your desk, busying yourself with papers that didn’t actually need your attention. You just wanted her to drop this before Alex’s suspicions that something was wrong were confirmed.

“Well, why not?” She moans.

You release a frustrated groan, “We were on a case, I couldn’t exactly ask her while standing over a dead body.”

“Obviously not, but there were evenings. You could have asked her over dinner or on the jet or literally any other time.”

“Maybe I don’t want to.” You growl, dropping the papers to your desk and turning around to glare at Penelope.

“You said you would!”

“Seriously? Do any conversations stay private in this place?”

“Not when you have them in the squad room,” Alex says as she approaches, Penelope spins around her face frozen in a way that tells Alex she was definitely the topic of conversation. “Everything okay?” She focuses on you, her brows furrowed in concern and you have to look away.

“Yeah, it’s nothing. It’s late and I’m tired so I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” You push yourself up from your desk, grabbing your bag and avoiding both their eyes as you hurry out of the room.

You’re nearly at the elevator when Alex catches up with you. “Y/N, what’s going on?”

You shake your head, your eyes not leaving the elevator as you wait for it to hurry up and arrive. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Can I give you a lift home?” Alex offers.

“I’ll be fine. Thank you though.”

“Please. You shouldn’t drive home if you’re that tired.” You meet her concerned gaze and after a long moment of consideration, you sigh.

“Okay. Sure.”

You expect her to start questioning you the second the doors close, but she doesn’t and you’re relieved. Instead, you both just talk like normal. The conversation comes to an end on the drive home though, and you fall into a comfortable silence. Your eyes remain fixed to the window instead of on her as you debate asking the question everyone wanted you to ask.

You frown when she drives past the turning to your house, “Hey, we just drove-”

“I know.” She cuts you off, eyes not drifting from the road. You release a resigned sigh and sink back into the chair. It wouldn’t do any good to argue with her.

You’re only half surprised when you arrive at her house. She parks and turns off the ignition without a word, and you follow her lead as you make your way into her house. You take your shoes and coat off just as she does and follow her through to her kitchen.

“Tea?”

“Sure.” You agree, leaning back against the counter as she begins making it. It’s silent between you and her, the only sound is the whirring of the kettle and the nervous tapping of your fingers against your arm.

“Here you go.” She passes you the cup before leaning back on the island counter opposite you.

“Thank you.” You take a sip and hum, “Is this from Emily’s tea of the month thing?”

“Yes, Penelope gives me some every time it arrives. This one is my favourite so far.”

You nod, not sure how else to respond. It’s silent for a moment before Alex speaks. “So, do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

You sigh, “It’s just the team trying to get involved in stuff that isn’t any of their business, and you know them, Penelope especially, the second they get their hands on a bit of gossip…” You roll your eyes.

“The bureau thrives off it.” She places her cup of tea down on the counter beside her before crossing her arms and looking at you with a thoughtful expression, “You didn’t quite answer my question though. This gossip, it’s about us, right?”

Her tone leaves no room for argument. You sigh and place your own cup on the side. There was no point in lying to her, and you didn’t want to. “Spencer came to me a few days ago because he thought that we weren’t getting along.”

She frowns, “That wouldn’t cause this amount of gossip because it’s obviously not true. Why would he think that?”

“I know.” You sigh, rubbing at your neck and not quite meeting her eyes. “Uh, so, apparently I look at you a lot and he thought that that meant I didn’t trust you or we’d had an argument or something. I explained that wasn’t the case, but he insisted something must be wrong and then JJ was there and teasing me about it all and it all spiralled out of control and before I knew it, I was agreeing to something that I didn’t want to agree to, not because I didn’t want to ask, but because I was scared that if I do ask that it’ll change things or ruin things and I don’t want-”

“Y/N,”

“-that to happen. I knew you’d find out anyway though, I’m terrible at lying and Penelope can’t keep a secret to save her life and you’re an amazing profiler and I just don’t want to ruin things between us just because I have a giant crush on you and am scared to ask you out on a date. I understand if you’re uncomfortable now.”

“Y/N, honey, look at me.” She comes closer, her hand touching your chin to try and get you to lift your head. You resist. “Please.”

The plea gets you to lift your head. She’s smiling and your heart flutters.

“I’m going to kiss you now, okay?” You can only nod and then she’s gripping your neck and pulling you in. The first brush of her lips has your heart pounding, and then there’s another and another and another and your hands grip onto her blazer and her fingers brush the hair at the base of your head and all you can breathe, and smell is her and it’s amazing.

She pulls back all too soon, and you make a small noise of protest which has her smirking. Your cheeks are flushed and both of you are breathing a little deeply. Her hand leaves your neck to wrap around your waist.

“W-why?”

“For a profiler, you suck at reading the cues when someone is interested in you.”

“I don’t, I just didn’t want to assume or-”

“Y/N, my first case in Seattle, one of the detectives spent the whole case trying to flirt with you and you didn’t see it.”

“She was just being friendly.”

“Right because it would be totally normal for me to tell Dave he has really pretty eyes while touching his arm.”

“I-fine. Okay.” You pout. Alex suppresses her smile by biting on her lip and your eyes immediately zero in on the action. Your tongue swipes over your lips. “I need you to kiss me again.”

Her own tongue swipes over her lips before she dips her head, her nose brushes against yours. Her breath hitting your lips. “I think it’s your turn.”

You take a heavy breath as your hand slides up to grip her neck. Your eyes flick to hers, enjoying her darkened gaze before you close the final bit of distance between you. There’s none of the hesitancy of last time, just kisses that quickly heat up as your hands move to grip at her hair and she pushes you back into the counter.

Her leg slides between yours causing a whine to escape your lips. Alex wastes no time in taking control of the kiss, her tongue sweeping against yours as you begin to squirm against her knee.

“Alex.” You moan as her lips begin to leave a trail of kisses down your neck. “Please, Alex.”

“Please what?”

“I-uh, oh.” You groan as her teeth scrape your neck and her hand begins to make its way under your shirt.

“Use your words.” She smirks.

“Bed. Please.”

“It’s not a sentence, but I’ll make an exception for you.”

You hum as she captures your lips in a toe-curling kiss before completely stepping away. You feel lost without the contact.

“Come on honey, follow me.”

You don’t need to be told twice as you quickly hurry after her, grabbing her hand and twisting her back into you before kissing her deeply. It’s her time to moan against your lips.

“Yeah, sweetheart. Follow me.” You smirk, stepping away before quickly making your way to her bedroom as Alex follows behind you.

[stuck-in-jelly]

The Irony of Life (MP100|One-Shot| Fan-Fic Commission)

A short SeriRei one-shot that was commissioned

In which Reigen reflects on his 15 year old mindset and realizes just how wrong he was.

———————————————

When Reigen was 15 years old he accepted the fact that he was never going to have kids even if he wanted to. With a single glance to his parents, he doubted he would be any better than them and no child deserved a fate like that.  

Yet irony had a way of creeping into his life and taking away his choice, because by the time he was 30 he somehow amassed an army of children who all looked up to him and visited him often, none of which were related to him in any way.  

It had all started with one kid and just ended up snowballing into more and more children before he could even try to stop it. Half of the pictures he has on his clipboard in the office have turned into photos of him and the kids on outings; the time Teru and the Kageyama brothers joined them on their trip to the hot springs, his birthday party with all of them, Ritsu getting thanked by his first client, Rei doing a fortune telling, and so on and so forth.  

He hates to say it, but it’s starting to look like a mother’s scrapbook and he is neither a mother nor in possession of an actual scrapbook (though he has considered investing in one at this rate). And although Mob doesn’t visit the office often anymore, too busy focusing more on his studies and the Body Improvement Club, he accidentally ended up sending more kids his way to replace him.  

More specifically in the form of a bunch of rather loud girls that Tome dragged in hardly with his approval and his office had turned into their hangout spot (much to his dismay when he is trying to work).  

Even now, at the end of the work day, they lay sprawled all over the couch and chairs talking and laughing away as if he hadn't already turned off most of the lights and locked the windows in a subtle way to tell them to get up already.  

Most days Reigen was left alone like this– given that Serizawa typically heads off early for night school– however today was a lucky day and he didn’t have classes which is a godsend since Serizawa is much better with kids than Reigen.  

“Come on, girls. Pack up, we are closing soon.” Serizawa’s voice snapped the girls out of their conversation much faster than his ever would, it was a perfect mix of a stern yet gentle demand that sounded much more like a suggestion making it much more appealing to listen to.

With a ‘tsk’ Reigen looked over to chime in:  

“We are closed,” he sneered before snapping the blinds to the windows shut.  

Imminent whines traveled from the girls.  

“Come on, just a couple more minutes!” one of them pleaded dramatically. It was almost enough to make Reigen roll his eyes.  

“Do you want to be locked in the office?”

“Cool! Like a sleepover!”

“No, no sleepovers in my office.”

Tome leaps up, a tale tell sign she has an idea  

“What if you give me the keys?! I can lock up after we all decide to leave or we stay the night!”

“Absolutely not.” He doesn’t even need to think about that one

“What!? Why?! I'm super reliable?”

A smirk crept on Reigen’s face.  

“Ah yes, like that time you got lost in the cursed woods, or the time Dimple had to possessed you and punch your teacher, or that time you assaulted one of our clients, or when you-”  

“Fine, fine I get it!” the girls were giggling and Tome’s face had turned a bright shade of pink as she slumped in defeat.  

Before he could say much else Serizawa stepped in once again,  

“How about this: Tomorrow we have a case down at Cape Cop Avenue, if we head off now you can tag along for it.”

The girls cheered, accidently having adopted Tome’s curiosity for ghosts and other such creatures. With their minds satisfied somewhat with the idea of a new activity they began to gather their bags and the homework they hadn't even touched the entire time at the office.  

Usually Reigen would scold Serizawa for promising something like that, but the location was an apartment complex that Serizawa had scouted yesterday and as expected there weren’t actually any ghosts there. The scariest thing at the apartment complex was their plumbing system.  

Regardless, Serizawa would be sure to give them a show (thank god none of them were espers).

It wasn’t long until they all began piling out. Somehow it has become a habit for Reigen to walk the girls home and tonight was no exception, the only difference being that Serizawa decided to join them.  

The first destination was for Mika who lived only 3 blocks down from Reigen’s office, she gave an enthusiastic wave goodbye and promised to take a bunch of pictures tomorrow (even though Reigen tried explaining it would be hard to capture a ghost on camera).

Up next was their tall friend whose name Reigen hasn’t caught just yet. She seemed to stare a lot at them when they worked and doodle them but she was the politest of the bunch so Reigen didn’t mind her all that much.  

Then Tome, who groaned loudly as Keiko reminded her of the homework due tomorrow before sulking back into her house with a small wave. Misa lives just two houses down from Tome and jogged ahead since she forgot about the homework too.  

And then last but not least Keiko who without the company of her friends becomes rather bashful and shy only uttering small ‘thank you’s’ and ‘good night’s’ as she scurries into her house.  

With the girls all safely in their houses Reigen without meaning to let out a soft sigh as he stretched, finally allowing himself to relax away from the kids. Usually he’d keep on his facade for Serizawa but lately that illusion has been melting away and luckily, it’s been mutual.  

Serizawa has begun to relax too around him, being more confident and even being so bold as to tease him. They had also begun to work fluidly with each other, understanding what the other needed or wanted with simple quick glances and they practically danced around each other in their morning routines. Reigen even trusted him enough to give him copies of the keys to the office, it was nice to have someone to lean on when you needed it.  

Neither of them said a word but they both began walking in the same direction. Serizawa lived just a bit further from Reigen in a different and better apartment complex than his so it made sense they were sticking together.  

Nights like these were rare but appreciated, his whole life Reigen has always felt like he was supposed to be running just to catch up; but walking like this alongside someone you trust and care about is nice. It makes him feel like he can finally walk instead of run, like there is no rush.

And Serizawa is a good person and perfect company, initially Reigen assumed they didn’t have much in common but as time has moved on it turned out they do and they frequently found themselves talking each other's ear off. Mostly Reigen more than Serizawa but it’s a mutual exchange at least.  

Though right now they seem to appreciate the silence, the girls were a nice change to have in the office but they also tend to drain the two of their energy with how loud and energetic they get, not to mention the trouble and danger they seem to like to get into. The thought alone is already giving Reigen a headache.

“Reigen?” With the sound of his name, he snaps out of it quickly, looking up to Serizawa only letting out a small ‘hm’ of acknowledgement.  

Reigen catches the brief moment Serizawa was looking at him before staring forward instead.

“I know we’ve been busy lately but I was wondering if you would like to join me tomorrow for dinner at my place?”  

Now that was extra new, Reigen has never been over to Serizawa’s apartment. Something about it felt a bit too personal, maybe it's because he hasn’t been over to a friend's place since he was in middle school nor has he had guests over willingly at his own apartment.    

“What’s the occasion?”  

The question makes Serizawa visibly tense, although the man has become more confident in himself, he finds moments like these where he still falters in his choices.  

“Oh! Uh well I just um thought it would be nice to have some company over you know, I wanted to try out this new recipe and I thought it would be nice to have another taste tester and well I’m also trying to get used to having more people over at my place and I-”  

Before he could go on another list of excuses Reigen interrupts,  

“Sure, sounds nice. It’s been a while since I had a home cooked meal anyways.”

The response seemed to calm him down, his shoulders untensing and letting out a not so subtle sigh of relief.  

As casual as Reigen is trying to act though he could feel his heart hammering in his chest in excitement. Every time he’s tried to have a moment alone with Serizawa one of them has always been either busy or with other plans so it would be great to finally have time.  

But Reigen isn't an idiot, he knows exactly why he’s excited for this. He’s noticed how things between them have changed recently and perhaps it’s wishful thinking but he’s noticed from Serizawa too, when his gaze lingers, when he relaxes into soft touches, and the change of his mood from around his friends as opposed to him.

Along with this came a new tension, and not the kind where you want to murder each other or fuck, no it was something different. It was the kind of tension where both parties are trying to read each other and think they know what the other is thinking but they don’t want to make any unwarranted assumptions.  

Reigen’s always been great at reading people, and usually he wouldn’t doubt himself but this is different in many ways. Serizawa is not only a friend but an employee, and he’s being reintroduced to the world away from all the hardships he faced and the trauma he’s brought along with him. If he is right about this, he needs to be careful.

Serizawa is perfectly capable of making his own choices but he needs to go at his own pace and to push anything onto Serizawa wouldn’t be fair.      

There’s another thing Reigen had accepted when he was 15 years old, and it was that no one could ever love him for who he truly is. And that is a firm belief he’s kept, even now as Serizawa leans to be closer to him and he leans back.  

But then again irony loves his company. So maybe 15-year-old Reigen could be wrong about that too.

-----------------------------------------

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If you want this posted on AO3 tell me and I’ll probably do it!! Thank you for reading

[holdenmgrudges]

Chapter 15 - Effectsies

Whoops. I forgot to post this here when I posted it on AO3. In this chapter,  Crutchie and David try to help Jack out, Spot has a sleepover at Jojo's, and Sarah has a conversation with the Delanceys.

Or read on AO3 if you prefer.

The vandalism caused a big commotion, in the principal’s office, that was led by Jack, Katherine, and Race. Miss Medda joined in as soon as she saw. Crutchie was angry, but he knew it was better if he let the others try to handle it. Crutchie felt like his voice didn’t matter, or that he’d be pitied.

He sat outside the office, waiting to hear what was happening, and he stared at his crutch, thinking how no matter what he did, he wouldn’t ever feel normal again. Even if he got some kind of new mechanical leg. But he knew that a crutch was better than a wheelchair. It was way more uncomfortable, but at least he could walk.

When the three teens and Medda came out of the office with the principal, they all still looked angry, but a little more calm. Jack told Crutchie that the principal was going to search lockers for any kind of spray cans. Crutchie thought that was a dumb idea. The graffiti may have been discovered that morning, but the culprit essentially had all weekend to do it and he figured they wouldn’t be stupid enough to leave the evidence in their locker. But at least it was something to do. Meanwhile, a custodian would paint over the graffiti.

As he walked to class, Crutchie couldn’t help but look at every single person he passed in the halls, wondering if any one of them could have done the damage. He tried to distract himself with his actual classwork, but it wasn’t long until he got a text that would keep him preoccupied.

When the bell rang, he knew what he had to do. He walked as quickly as he could to the principal’s office, ready to make some noise. He didn’t care how much trouble he got in. Jack needed him and he was going to be there for him.

When he got there, however, a tired-looking Jack was leaving with Miss Medda at his side. “Jack, I was just gonna tell Pulitzer--”

Miss Medda held up a finger. “Crutchie, don’t say anything else. It’s all been taken care of. Go to your next class.”

“I’ll see you at lunch,” Jack was able to mutter.

When lunch came along, Crutchie hurried to Miss Medda’s room. The door was open, as the paint was still drying. Miss Medda was in there making a call, but Jack wasn’t there yet. He sat down and a minute later, David came in.

“Hey, Crutchie. What’s going on? I got a text from Specs earlier that said Jack was in trouble. That they’d found spray cans in his locker.”

“Yeah, he sent me that text too. I went down to Pulitzer’s office to tell them the cans were mine but...Miss Medda said it was taken care of.”

Miss Medda had finished her call and had apparently heard them talking because she went up to them and cheerfully said, “Hey, boys, can you come help me in the costume room?” The two of them followed her into what was essentially a walk in closet full of costumes. She made sure none of the other students in the classroom had followed or were close enough to listen.

“Okay, here’s what happened,” she said. “Yes, they found spray cans in Jack’s locker. So the principal called him to his office. Luckily he didn’t say anything until I got there. I told Pulitzer that Jack had the spray cans because he was helping me paint a set for the next school play and I forgot that I’d given them to him. Pulitzer was suspicious, but he had no reason to doubt me. Just as I have no reason to doubt Jack.

“I know he didn’t put up the graffiti, and that’s the only reason I said what I said. But those cans weren’t mine and they weren’t his so...Someone is trying to frame him. I think right now he’s trying to find out who, but...I think he just needs his friends. And I’m sure you need him too.”

The boys nodded and then they proceeded to go try to find Jack. But when they did, he was too far into his investigation. He was angry and he was making it his sole purpose to find out who was trying to frame him. For the next few days, he kept obsessing over it to the point where Crutchie and David needed a break. He’d even brought it up in the LGBTQ+ Club meeting.

The next week, Crutchie texted David and they met in Miss Medda’s room for lunch. He knew Jack wouldn’t mind going at his investigation alone. He probably preferred it that way. But Crutchie was tired. The graffiti could’ve been done by anyone.

“We need him to stop,” David said as they settled down into their desks.

“But how?” Crutchie had tried everything shy of physically snapping Jack out of it. He even tried reasoning that the damage wasn’t bad enough to be so focused on it, although he didn’t believe that himself. People at school were still talking about the incident, as they probably would be for the next few weeks. Even as he went into the little theatre, he’d seen people staring at the door, wondering if the vandalizer would strike again.

“I’ve been thinking,” David said slowly and quietly. “I mean, I’m not sure it would work, but...It would probably distract him…” Crutchie waited. “But I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

“What is it, Davey?”

“Okay, so ever since the graffiti thing happened, I’ve just been wanting to do something. Something big. Something to make us feel stronger. To...give a big middle finger to the man. And to whoever put up that...hateful word.”

“Just spit it out. Your idea.”

“Okay, well, what if we hold some kind of pride pep rally? I know at the very least everyone in the club would participate. We could hand out stickers and stuff. Get a few others to join in. Maybe have new people join the club.”

“Jack could make a speech.”

“Katherine could write it.”

“Davey, I could kiss you!” David blushed a little, though it went unnoticed by Crutchie. “That’s a great idea! It would definitely distract Jack, and it would also help us out. We should definitely pitch it at the next meeting. You...you’re a genius.”

“I wouldn’t say genius…”

“Godsend then. An angel. A saint. Deus ex machina.”

“Crutchie...please…”

At the next meeting, Davey, with Crutchie’s help, pitched the idea to the club, and everyone was on board. They all put effort in and by the next Friday, they were holding their rally. Jack was successfully distracted and everything had gone according to plan. Stickers were handed out, some other clubs joined in for the pep part of the rally, there were even some possible new club recruits, and Katherine had written a speech for Jack.

Jack was at the end of the speech when he suddenly stopped. Crutchie could tell that he’d just gotten one of his crazy Jack ideas. Ideas that could go either way.

“You know,” Jack said into the microphone. “I’d like to thank you all for showing your support for the our community and for your classmates. But most of all, I’d like to thank one person in particular, for who we owe this rally to. David Jacobs, could you please come up here?”

David looked at Crutchie, wondering what he should do, but Crutchie was just as confused and he shrugged. David looked back up at Jack and upon seeing his inviting smile, went up to the stage nervously.

Jack took David’s hand and looked back out to the audience. “This guy right here has done more for the LGBTQ+ Club than I’ve done since I started it. He’s made it a real safe space. He has all the best ideas. He’s...he’s amazing.” He turned back to David, who was fully red. “I have a question for you, Davey. Will you…” Jack swallowed before finishing the question. “Will you be my boyfriend?”

There were some gasps from the audience. Crutchie knew at that moment that this was probably one of Jack’s more worse ideas, but he didn’t know if he thought that because it was true, or out of jealousy. David looked right at him as Jack waited for a response. But again, all Crutchie could do was shrug.

“Yes,” David said as he turned back to Jack.

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

Jack smiled and he pulled in David for a kiss. In front of the whole school. Cheers came, mostly from the front where members of the LGBTQ+ club were standing. Some groans were heard from the back. Crutchie then figured it out. He wasn’t jealous. He wouldn’t have traded places with David if he could. All of this, it wasn’t personal. It was a stunt. Crutchie felt sad, not because Jack and David were officially a couple, but because he felt that Jack had just started on a path to ruin another relationship.

Spot couldn’t exactly react to the vandalism. He had to pretend he didn’t notice it or that it didn’t affect him. Except it did affect him. He was much quieter in the weeks after it happened. He was focused on wrestling more than anything. He usually gave the team inspirational speeches before every meet, but now he was letting Jojo give them. Spot was just trying not to break down and cry.

The Friday after the graffiti was found, the school paper had released a front page article about it. For some reason, Spot’s mother had gotten a copy of it and someone had sent her a picture of the graffiti in question. “Serves them faggots right, huh son?” she’d asked him straight to his face. He agreed with her and then went to his room, crying as quietly as he possibly could.

But he could deal with that. He was strong. It wasn’t until the pride pep rally that he’d finally had enough. He was standing towards the back, trying to pay attention to Jack’s speech, but the Delancey brothers were standing nearby talking loudly. He wanted to yell at them to shut up, but he didn’t want to draw any attention to himself.

Then Jack called David to the stage and they kissed. He’d seen it before, in front of Sarah’s house. He’d felt awkward about it at first, but he had tried not to think much of it. Now that it was in public for everyone to see, Spot felt like he was the one on blast even though it wasn’t him on stage. “That’s fucking gross,” he heard one of the Delanceys say. He wanted to punch them both in the face. Instead, he subtly walked away to the nearest bathroom.

He’d locked himself in a stall when he heard the footsteps of someone coming in. He hoped to god it wasn’t Race. He didn’t want to deal with him and his radical ideas. He hoped it was just some random guy that needed to pee and would leave right after. Of course, whoever it was knocked at his stall. “Spot?”

Luckily, it wasn’t Race’s voice that he heard. It was Jojo’s. And he couldn’t have been happier to hear it. He got up and exited the stall, giving Jojo probably the biggest hug he’d ever given him. Probably the biggest hug he’d ever given anyone. Without saying anything, Jojo hugged him back. “Hey, Jo? Can I stay with you this weekend?”

Spot told his mom he was staying at a wrestling buddy’s place for the weekend to study for their end of year tests. It wasn’t exactly a lie, although he didn’t think they’d do a lot of studying. He got to Jojo’s house and was a bit irked to see Race open the door. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see him. He just would have rather it be only him and Jojo. Race was an emotional overload for him. Around him, he felt happy, sad, horny, angry, and peaceful all in the span of one glance.

Race looked just as pleased to see him, a bit reserved at first, but then all smiles. He took Spot’s hand and pulled him into the kitchen where Jojo was pouring them drinks. A screwdriver for Race and two orange juices for Spot and himself. Race continued holding his hand.

“God, you guys are making me look like an alcoholic,” Race said before downing his entire drink happily. Jojo and Spot laughed.

They spent the rest of the night playing games and watching tv. After midnight, Spot could tell Jojo was tired, as he kept yawning. He figured Jojo liked the company and didn’t want to be the first to bow out. Spot wasn’t sleepy, but he felt obligated to let his friend rest. “Hey Jo? I’m getting kinda tired.”

“Oh? Yeah, man, it’s pretty late, huh?” he replied. Race groaned a little as they all got up to go upstairs. He seemed to still be up for a party. “Do you want to sleep in my room or take a guest room?”

“Guest room’s cool,” Spot said. He didn’t want to bother Jojo as he slept, and he knew if he was in the room, Race would be too. He felt like being alone with his thoughts.

After brushing his teeth, Jojo led him to one of the guest rooms and said, “Race, my room,” when he saw Race tiptoeing towards the bed. Spot smiled at Race but pushed him out before saying good night and closing the door.

He lay awake in bed, with the bedside lamp on, thinking about the way he’d let his mother dictate how to live his life. He loved her, and as a kid, he thought she could do no wrong. The older he grew, the more wrong he realized she was doing.

He’d always blamed the alcohol for everything. He’d always thought she relied too much on it. He’d thought it was the reason she had hit him when he was younger. She’d stopped when she realized he could do more damage to her than she could to him. She never realized that he would never hurt her. But he was starting to realize the alcohol wasn’t the issue. She was.

He got up and went downstairs. He took a glass and poured some vodka in it. At first, he stared at it. Then, he took a sip. It burned and he wondered why people liked the stuff. Maybe he needed more. He took a gulp this time. He hated it. Or maybe he hated himself enough to drink more. Was this how it started? With one gulp of self-hatred?.

“I thought you didn’t drink.”

Spot turned around and saw Race standing at the doorway, watching him. “I thought you didn’t want to look like an alcoholic.”

Race walked toward him and took the glass from his hand. He drank the rest of the vodka and put the glass down. “I’d rather be an alcoholic than turn you into one.”

“Thanks. I hated it.”

Race smiled at him and took his hand like he had earlier. “Bedtime.” Spot wanted to just melt. This whole thing with Race was too complicated for him to handle, but it was easier when he didn’t think about it. Maybe that’s why he tried drinking. He was tired of continuous thinking.

They went upstairs to the guest room, where Race closed and locked the door. He led him to the bed and they immediately began making out. But as much as he didn’t want to think, Spot knew that they couldn’t just keep doing that and not expect there to be consequences. Cheating on Sarah was one thing, but he was getting too comfortable. He was heading towards a point where he wouldn’t be able to go back.

When Race took a condom out of his pocket, Spot didn’t know that would be the deciding point. He was overcome with lust and the shot he took was starting to affect him. He couldn’t control his impulses. Race guided him through everything, from stripping down, to loosening him up. It was an experience he would never forget. There were some awkward moments, but when they finished, he felt he’d been successful.

He woke up needing to pee. Race was on the other side of the bed, having stolen all the blankets. Spot put his shirt and underwear on and went to the bathroom. He figured he might as well shower and brush his teeth. When he’d done that, he still didn’t want to go back to the room. He didn’t know why. It would be so easy to go back to bed and watch Race sleep until he couldn’t take it anymore, waking him up with kisses and cuddles. Easy, but wrong.

Instead, he went to Jojo’s room. The door was open and he could see the guy was still sleeping. The floor creaked as he turned to walk away, and he heard the movement of sheets. “Spot?”

Spot turned back around and smiled at his friend. “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s fine. I was already awake. Just being lazy. Come in.” Jojo sat up as Spot went to sit down next to him. “I assume the ghost of Racetrack present paid you a visit last night?” Spot smiled and nodded. Jojo sighed. “He told me he was going to break it off. Guess he can’t quit you.”

Spot got up and closed the door before heading back. “I guess I can’t quit him either. But...it sucks, Jo. Because...I can never be with him.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I’m not...out. I have a girlfriend. I’m captain of the wrestling team. The only pride my mom has is in having a hetero, masculine, little man who loves her. I...I can never be with Race.”

“Never is such a bullshit word. You don’t know what’s going to happen in the future. Never could turn into someday. And someday could turn into...now.”

Spot shook his head. “I can’t, Jojo. I’d lose everything. Everyone. Sarah, my team, my friends...my mom.”

“You wouldn’t lose me. Or rather, you haven’t lost me and you won’t. Do you know why I joined the wrestling team? Because I saw you and your leadership skills and I thought, I want to be that guy. He’s cool, and he’s fierce, and he makes it look so easy. Whether you’re with a girl or with a guy, you’re still you, Spot. And if people can’t see that, they will. You’ll show them.”

“Even so, it’s not like I could ask Race to deal with all my shit.”

“He likes you. He really likes you. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he does. The last guy that Race really liked...He’s still not over it. But I think you can help. I think you can make him happy. And he can make you happy. You just have to be brave. At your own pace. Remember, not never, but someday. Until it becomes now.”

Spot nodded, thinking about it. Thinking of all the hurt he would have to cause in order to make himself happy. Thinking of how much happier he would be once he was able to kiss Race just as publicly as Jack kissed David, without feeling all the guilt and shame that he felt now. He wished he could just skip to the end.

Sarah was sure the writing on the door wasn’t directed at her. It was a blanket term for the community. But she didn’t know how to not take it personally. She’d been called that before by people she’d grown up with. She’d been called that by strangers who felt they thought they knew who she was. She hated the word.

But while a lot of her fellow club members were angry, she retreated into sadness. If this was the kind of treatment they got with her not even being out to anyone, what would it be like when she did? Even if what Jack had said was true, that the club was a safe space, once she told everyone in there, the rest of the school would probably find out. And once she left that safe space, she wouldn’t feel safe anymore.

Sarah had managed to convince Tommy Boy and Hot Shot to attend a club meeting, though she thought they were just being nice. Her own boyfriend wouldn’t attend, saying Jack Kelly would probably have him kicked out. She’d tried to tell him he wouldn’t, but Spot had made up his mind. She understood, though it didn’t put her at ease.

The week after the rally, Sarah was sitting on a bench outside the gym waiting for Spot to get out of practice. She had finished her homework and had started reading a new sci fi romance novel, her favorite genre. She’d even enjoyed the Twilight series at its peak, though she’d moved on to better written books.

The gym doors opened and she looked up, hoping to see Spot, but instead was met with the Delancey brothers. They hadn’t bothered her or Katherine since the award ceremony, but now they were headed straight to her. Without putting her book down, she stared them down. “Oscar, Morris, come for another beating?”

The brothers looked at each other and smiled before looking back at her. She didn’t like that. “Actually, we came with a proposition,” said Oscar.

“Sorry boys, even if you could afford me, it’d still be a no.”

“You haven’t heard us out,” Morris whined.

Sarah closed her book.

“You know, at the beginning of the year,” Oscar spoke, “we had a free period so we both chose to use it to be aides in the main office. It was something to do at the time.”

“Our dad said it would give us valuable experience.”

“We just thought it’d be boring office stuff. Putting staples in the staplers, sending memos to teachers, making copies on the copy machine.”

“They don’t even let us use the copy machine.”

“Is there a point to this?” Sarah asked impatiently.

“We didn’t think of the possibilities,” Oscar continued, a mischievous smile forming on his face. “We didn’t think that we’d be able to go through files without anyone finding out. Student files. With personal information.”

Sarah went pale. She remained silent as she waited for the ball to drop.

“We know you’re a dude,” Morris confirmed.

It was a terrible feeling to be called that to her face. The graffitied word would have been more welcome. She wanted to kick their asses again, but she waited, because she suspected there was more.

“You probably want to bust our skulls in, don’t you?” Oscar asked, rhetorically. “Thing is, you could do that. But then you’d force us to tell the whole school that we didn’t get our asses handed to us by a girl. Because she’s actually not a girl. She...is a he.” The brothers laughed as Sarah clenched her fist tighter and tighter.

“We own you,” came out of Morris’ smug lips. “You have to do whatever we want, whenever we want. Or else we tell everyone we can that you’re...whatever you are.”

“And the first thing we want you to do…” The two brothers smiled at each other again. “We want you to go into the principal’s office and tell him that you spray painted the graffiti on the little theatre.”

“It was you,” Sarah finally said. The Delanceys smiled at each other once more and shrugged. There it was. She was sure there wasn’t anything possibly worse than that. She should’ve known they were behind the tagging. The fact that they had access to student files meant they had access to student lockers. “You tried framing Jack.”

“My idea,” Morris said proudly.

“Even if that had worked,” Oscar suggested, rolling his eyes, “this is a much better plan. It’s win-win. We don’t get in trouble for the graffiti, and your secret doesn’t come out. We’ll uh...give you ‘til Friday, pal.”

With that, the Delancey brothers went back into the gym, leaving Sarah there with her thoughts. It may have been win-win for the Delanceys, but for her it was lose-lose. She could either take the blame for the graffiti, or she could risk the entire school finding out that she was trans. As much as she thought of it, she wasn’t ready to come out to anyone. She unclenched her fist, cursing herself as she saw the marks she’d left on her palm with her nails. She picked up her book, wishing she was a character in it. She couldn’t get it out of her mind that maybe the graffiti had been directed at her after all. Sarah only saw one solution.

[gyrlversion]

British OAP who saved villagers from Nazi death squad when she was 17

Sitting in her elegant apartment on Brighton seafront this week, Gabriella Skittar, now 91

She had just seen her father rounded up at gunpoint, along with all the other men in the village of Cappella di Scorze, near Venice. Like everyone else, Gabriella Skittar knew what was coming next.

The Germans had already massacred dozens of innocent civilians in nearby Bassano del Grappa — the standard reprisal for any show of armed resistance.

And now, the Italian partisans had just attacked a German column outside Cappella di Scorze.

Soon, all 38 menfolk would be lined up in front of a deep ditch, waiting for the German commanding officer to finish his lunch and give the order. Their only last, lingering hope was that their journey to the grave would be a swift one.

Except Gabriella had other ideas. Though just a teenager, she went to remonstrate with the Germans. Her years at school in Austria suddenly proved to be a godsend.

Astonished to be addressed in fluent German by an Italian girl, the German troops took her to see their officer, who listened to her protestations that the men were innocent.

Eventually, he took her to see them all lined up. Ordering Gabriella to translate into Italian, he told them: ‘This young lady tells me that you had nothing to do with the attack on us. I would like to believe that.’

At which point, an anti-tank gun appeared. ‘I want you to look at this gun,’ he said, before giving the command. It fired a round into a nearby cherry tree, blowing it to pieces.

‘If I find she has been lying to me,’ the officer shouted at his petrified audience, ‘she will be the first of you to die.’ Whereupon the troops began a systematic search of the prisoners.

Putting on a brave face, Gabriella stood her ground. But there was one fatal flaw in her story. For, as she very well knew, she was lying. Some of these men really were partisans.

If the Germans unearthed so much as an Italian armband, she and her father would go the same way as the cherry tree. The next half an hour would be the longest of her life . . .

Sitting in her elegant apartment on Brighton seafront this week, Gabriella, now 91, remembers it all as if it were yesterday. Yet this extraordinary tale of heroism and sheer good luck was to remain unknown for almost 75 years.

Now, despite having spent most of her life in Britain, Gabriella finds herself feted as an Italian national hero, with one of the highest honours her mother country can bestow.

And I am captivated as I listen to her inspirational story.

It is one that takes us from war-torn Venice and the execution of Italian dictator Benito Mussolini, to the stage of Glyndebourne Opera House.

But it all centres on the morning of April 28, 1945, as Allied forces moved northwards through Italy.

Gabriella and her family were relative newcomers to Cappella di Scorze. Before the war, they had lived near Venice, where her father, Luigi Skittar, was a senior figure in the management of Italy’s railway network.

For four years, he was posted to Innsbruck in Austria, where Gabriella attended an international school, becoming fluent in German and learning English.

This extraordinary tale of heroism and sheer good luck was to remain unknown for almost 75 years (pictured in Venice just after the war)

Gabriella was informed that the Italian President wished to elevate her to the rank of Officer of the Order of the Star of Italy, one of the country’s highest accolades, with the letters ‘OSI’ after her name

In 1943, the family returned to Italy, but Luigi feared exposing his family to Allied bombing raids on industrial targets around Venice. So he moved his wife and children to the countryside.

At first, they lived in Mogliano, until that, too, was bombed and he found them digs with a farming family in Cappella di Scorze.

Luigi would never have ended up facing a firing squad but for the fact that April 28 was his birthday. He decided to leave the city to spend a couple of days with his wife, Laura, and children, Gabriella, then 17, and son Lucio, seven.

By chance, his arrival coincided with that of a retreating German column which had just stopped in the village.

‘This was my father’s birthday, and we had looked forward to celebrating it, but, at 10am, a young man arrived on a bicycle,’ says Gabriella.

‘He told everyone to get indoors and close their shutters, since the partisans were about to attack the Germans.

‘We all pleaded for restraint. The Germans had executed 31 men in Bassano del Grappa, so we had no doubt of the German appetite for revenge.

‘But the attack went ahead, and several German soldiers were wounded.’

Not long afterwards, two German soldiers broke into the farmhouse with machine guns.

‘They just grabbed my father and every male over 14 years old and took them to some nearby stables,’ says Gabriella. ‘My mother wouldn’t let go of me, but I said: “I’m going to see where they are putting Daddy,” and I ran up the road.’

There, fearlessly, she demanded an explanation from the troops.

‘Confused by my perfect German, the soldiers took me to their commanding officer, who was having lunch,’ she says.

‘He made me stand and wait while he finished his meal. He was very tired, with the look of a defeated man.

‘For nearly two hours, I pleaded with him, insisting that the men were innocent bystanders — simple farmers who had nothing to do with the attack, which had been carried out by partisans from outside the village.’

But the officer was not so easily convinced. ‘Why did the villagers all go inside and close their shutters before we were attacked?’ he wanted to know.

Quick as a flash, Gabriella replied that it was merely the custom among Italian country dwellers to shut one’s shutters after the morning clean, in order to keep out the sun.

‘You are just a girl,’ he told her. ‘How can you know what’s in men’s hearts and souls?’

Gabriella was adamant: ‘They are innocent, not partisans.’

Finally, the commanding officer left the room for a few minutes. Then he returned and ordered her to follow him outside, where she found all the men in front of the ditch with machine guns trained on them.

She managed a brief word with her father, who fumbled in his pocket and gave her his watch, along with a hastily scribbled note to her mother.

She remembers the ‘terrific noise’ of the anti-tank gun pulverising the cherry tree before the troops began their search. ‘It was very, very tense,’ recalls Gabriella.

‘They were looking for any signs of partisan membership. Luckily, while in the cowshed, those who did have tricolour armbands, or the like, had had the sense to hide them in the dung on the floor. No incriminating evidence was found.’

Finally, the officer issued the order for the machine gunners to stand down and warned the villagers that if there was any further attack on his men, then he would have no hesitation in massacring the lot of them.

Finally, he said: ‘You have this young lady to thank for your lives.’

Gabriella remembers that most of the men still had their eyes screwed shut, waiting for a bullet.

‘Then my father put his arm around me and said: “Let’s go back to Mama.” ’

The villagers remained indoors as night fell and, in the early hours, the Germans moved off. Not long after, there was the sound of another engine and a light outside.

‘We were all still in shock. But one of the sons of the house got very nervous and said: “Those fools will get us all bombed with that light on.” He went outside, only to discover a British officer and his sergeant asking if anyone knew where they might find some breakfast.

‘I can’t tell you how astonished we were to hear English. We were being liberated!’ she says.

The entire village was only too happy to serve up its meagre rations as dawn broke.

‘It was very funny. As news spread, the whole village came out to watch these men just eating their breakfast. People were getting out the wine they had been hiding from the Germans. It was wonderful.’

Hours later, the news came through that Mussolini had been found strung up at a Milanese petrol station. ‘We were not sorry,’ laughs Gabriella.

Within days, the war was over and the Skittars moved back to Venice. Gabriella got a job with the British military authorities in Venice, where she met a British officer, Captain Peter Ezra, who had fought his way across the desert and up through Italy.

Romance ensued and, in 1949, they married and began a new life in Sussex.

Peter, who had represented Cambridge University in both cricket and boxing, taught at Sussex University while also playing and coaching at Sussex County Cricket Club.

Gabriella became a linguistics expert at Glyndebourne, teaching generations of opera singers how to sing properly in Italian and German. They had two children, Diana, who is now an entrepreneur, and Mark, the feature film producer. Finally, around 20 years ago, during a holiday in Italy, Gabriella decided ‘on a whim’ to pay a visit to Cappella di Scorze. No sooner had she walked into the place with her daughter, than a cry went up: ‘It’s Gabriella!’

‘Work stopped for the day as the whole village threw me an impromptu feast,’ she says.

Some years later, Mark read about an Italian woman receiving an award for something similar and decided that his mother deserved recognition, too.

Just over a year ago, he wrote to the Italian Embassy in London. Many months later, Gabriella was informed that the Italian President wished to elevate her to the rank of Officer of the Order of the Star of Italy, one of the country’s highest accolades, with the letters ‘OSI’ after her name.

Hence her appearance as guest of honour at the Italian Embassy, lauded for her bravery and quick-thinking as a teenager.

‘I never expected a reward,’ she says. ‘I was simply happy to have saved all those lives.’

Endearingly astonished by all the interest in her story, she says she has one bit of unfinished business. ‘I want to send some money to the people we lived with. They didn’t have much. But they were such good, honest people.’

The post British OAP who saved villagers from Nazi death squad when she was 17 appeared first on Gyrlversion.

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