by Stella Duffy
Janine knows it’s weird, but at the time, in the half light at Will’s place, it seems like a good idea to go along with them. A way to make it stop, make them stop being mean. And anyway, Janine knows they think she’s strange. Maybe they think she’s like them. Would like them. After all, he is Will Gallagher, everyone – everyone of the girls – wants to kiss Will Gallagher, right? And she thinks she certainly wouldn’t mind pissing off that bloody Andrea Browne, sitting there glaring at her from the armchair, watching her boyfriend Will sit between her and Sally and lean into her and kiss her. Janine’s eyes open past his cheekbones and sees Andrea glaring at her there. So she kisses him back, figures that might be good enough. It had been for Sally. The kiss, the slow touch, the smile. But then quickly, too quickly, it isn’t enough, just to kiss Will Gallagher, nowhere near. And when she gets home Janine understands even less than before.
So now she was going to ask. Just get it all out in the open. Ask them what the fuck was going on. Ask them, why her? What had she ever done to make them pick on her? She would take them in turn, one after the other, and ask her question. She would walk to their place, find them before they found her. She was going to walk up those steps by herself and right to them in their hidden-away corner of the grounds. They would have to answer her then. It was a civil, sensible question. Quietly, politely, and they would be surprised. She would speak to each one – it would be weird if they didn’t answer, they would look silly, and Janine had read the problem pages, devoured the answers the sensible agony aunts gave, she knew that above all they would hate to look silly. Will Gallagher hated looking silly. She would get in first, confront them with the facts, lay it out. This has happened.
Will kisses her and his hand moves across her body, down her front, from her breasts to her stomach to her thighs, she starts to pull away but Will’s arm is tighter than it was before and then Andrea is leaning over them both, she’s not on her armchair now, there’s a pair of scissors in Andrea’s hand and she’s telling Janine to take off her shirt, take it off or I’ll fucking cut it off.
And this.
Janine half naked and Will’s hand on her skin, her body. Her body. Ewan laughing with Sally in the corner, snogging with Sally in the corner, and Andrea’s big art room scissors chopping at Janine’s good shirt, little bits of material falling off on to the old carpet. Daniel has a camera. Daniel Carver has a camera, and he’s taking photos, Will is turning Janine to face the camera and he’s telling her to smile and they’re all shouting it out now: Cheese! Say cheese! Say cheese, Janine! Please say cheese, Janine! Say Cheese Please! And Daniel is all excited because these are such good photos, his new camera. He’s been saving for ages and his cousin’s mate has a darkroom and he’ll print the photos up. All of them. Then Janine Marsden can see herself. See what they all see. Show her mum and dad and the other kids at school what they all see.
And this.
All three of the boys standing around her, tight around her, pushing in on her and Daniel still taking photos, leaning in, taller than the others, the flash shining too bright in her eyes, and the girls, Sally and Andrea, drinking from the vodka bottle now, last few drops, sharing the last few drops and the music is so loud, the music Daniel thinks is so cool is so loud, so strange. Now Janine is on her knees between the three boys, three men. They look like men from where she is, from down here, from nowhere else to go and she’s asking the girls to help her, pushed down because Daniel said she looked better that way, better from there, it would be a better picture, better angle, and Andrea and Sally are laughing, holding each other and laughing and Daniel is saying this is a brilliant shot, great shot, yes yes baby, do it baby, one more time, come on baby, oh yeah, oh yeah, you’ve got it, that’s it, that’s it. And they’re all laughing. Laughing at her. Sally is laughing at her. And Janine knows this was Sally’s idea too. That this has been Sally’s idea all along. Janine knows this afternoon was all a part of the same long night. And knowing that she doesn’t feel so drunk anymore. She finds the strength to push them aside – not really so hard, they’re laughing so much, easy to push away now – and gets to her feet, finds a shoe, drags her skirt down round her knees. Her shirt is on the floor, arms cut off, big hole cut out of the back. Her good shirt, Janine only has one good shirt. And she’d worn it for them because Sally had asked her over and it was all going to be all right. Janine wants to be sick, wants to throw up, wants to lie down and pretend this is not happening, has not happened, but most of all she wants the film out of that camera, has to get the film and scrabbles over the others, Ewan and Will laughing so much they’ve collapsed on the settee now, or maybe that’s the speed too, making them laugh, laugh so much, laugh at her. So Janine grabs the camera out of Daniel Carver’s hands and he’s shouting at her telling her to be fucking careful, that cost a lot of fucking money you stupid bitch, but she has the back off it now and there’s no film. No film inside the camera. And now it’s really fucking funny, all that fear and shame and horror and there’s no evidence, no evidence at all. Nothing to send to her mum and dad, nothing to put in the school magazine, to make leaflets that go under the windscreen wipers on the teachers’ cars. None of their threats to come true. Just the five of them laughing, collapsed and exhausted and laughing.
Then this.
It changes again. Janine is not ready and she is not willing, but she doesn’t know where to go, how to leave. And part of her thinks perhaps this will be an end to it, this one last thing and then it will be over and they’ll leave her alone. And part of her thinks this is what Sally must have meant all along, to get her back here to Will’s flat and for this to happen. And part of her does not think at all. Then much of her does not think at all. There are knickers wrenched away, a tight elastic line that will leave a banded bruise the next day. There is some kissing too. But it isn’t soft and it isn’t nice and it doesn’t make you feel good in the pit of your stomach, behind your knees, your lower back. She thinks that maybe Will Gallagher is kissing her because it’s what you do – this thing, then the next – but Janine Marsden has no experience and it hurts. It hurts when he pushes his mouth against hers and it hurts when he pulls her legs apart and it hurts when he shoves his penis inside her and it hurts when he rocks himself back and forwards in her body. Out of her body. Janine Marsden is a long way out of her body. And staying away. So even though Daniel Carver stands over her next, she doesn’t really see him, feel him, what he does. And anyway, it’s all so fast, all happens so fast, and then Andrea Browne is telling the guys enough, she’s bored now, enough, and Sally is just sitting there, leaning against Ewan, her eyes closed, muttering about how pissed she feels, like she’s not really there, like it isn’t all her fault. And Janine pulls on what’s left of her bra and her good shirt and shoves her ladderedtights feet into her shoes and grabs her bag and runs down the stairs, out of the flat, door banging behind her, runs all the way home. All the way home. And hides in her room in her bed and doesn’t answer when her dad gets in even later than her and calls goodnight. Doesn’t have any answer to give. Not quite ten at night and fast asleep already. Her dad hopes she’s done enough homework.
So after that, after all that, wasn’t it time to stop now? Janine would make them see the sense in what she was saying. They must see it had gone too far. Now. Janine wasn’t going to tell anyone, not even her mum. She wouldn’t make a fuss, they didn’t need to worry about her making a fuss. It just needed to stop, she’d had enough. It only made everyone feel uncomfortable, her of course, but maybe too the five of them, definitely all the others standing round, the next circle out and the next. All the others in the No Ball Games playground who felt it too, who froze up just as she did when their little group came into view. And they must feel odd now, after last night. They had to.
Why are you doing this to me?
Obviously she had said something wrong once, something she’d done, failed to do, and now they didn’t like her. Maybe she had upset one of them. Andrea perhaps. Maybe they’
d picked up her thoughts about them, how she secretly thought of Andrea as slutty. And nowhere near as good-looking as she thought herself. There had to have been a first thing, first time. The first time she said a wrong word or wore the wrong clothes or took someone’s chair or ate too much or smiled too little or hell, you know … something. It must have started sometime, though Janine herself couldn’t remember when, just that it had been like this for so long and didn’t seem to be getting any better, no matter what she did. And then they’d made it even worse. Sally had made it even worse. Janine could not make herself invisible. She had tried for so long and she had failed. She knew that now. No matter where she hid, they always found her. But she would be happy to put things right. If only they would explain themselves, then perhaps it could all be sorted out. And she’d start with the obvious.
Why are you doing this to me?
*
They were startled at first. Had seen her coming, watching from the vantage point where they could see and yet not be seen. Not unless they wanted to be. They were talking to one another, what they would do in the weekend, whose homework they should copy. They were not talking about what had happened last night. Daniel and Will looking at each other, keeping it between themselves. Andrea holding some secret, wittering on about the celebrity scandal in the paper instead. Sally keeping her thoughts to herself, not sure how to be with Ewan, Ewan practically ignoring her because he had no idea whether she wanted him to talk or not. No one really wanting to know. Then Sally, sitting on the edge of the wall, saw Janine Marsden walk round the corner into the concreted yard and, not sure what she was seeing, worried about how long they would wait before it started. It always started. Sally thinking today wasn’t a good day, it didn’t feel right this morning, not after that, last night. And Janine looked strange too, walking directly towards them, heading up the steps. Andrea noticed it as well, but her reaction was different, the guys weren’t really paying her enough attention, embarrassed maybe, after what had happened, fearful they’d gone too far, but she wanted their attention. Wanted it back from Janine.
Ewan felt as stupid as this idiot coming towards them, her mouth open and words falling out, muttering some shit, mouthing some shit. He felt weird about last night at Will’s place and weirder still about him and Sally in his dad’s surgery. He wanted to talk to Sally about it and didn’t know where to start, what to say, wanted to tell everyone and wanted to keep it entirely private. He had no idea what to say to Sally, though he did want to talk to her, quiet and easy, because he did like her, really liked her. And at the same time he wanted to tell the whole bloody school he’d just fucked Sally Martin. Both and neither. All and nothing. And now here was Janine Marsden looking even madder than when she’d run off last night. Well, at least this was better than worrying about how to talk to Sally.
She was speaking. Or shouting. Janine Marsden was shouting. Daniel turned in surprise. This had never happened before. Will leaned back and smiled. He was amazed. And delighted. Janine Marsden was talking to them, at them, walking towards them, right across the no-play-ground and up the steps, shouting now, louder and weirder. Off her fucking head she was. Incredible. You know, either she was very brave or totally insane. Either way, it looked like fun.
Until it didn’t.
THIRTY-TWO
“Why are you doing this to me?”
It was easy enough to say. Janine was stunned it came out of her mouth so fast. Flowed and circled and twisted and turned and the words ran right round their legs, crossed their arms, up and over their heads, the science block, the maths room, over one side of the steep roof and back down through dirty gutters, dirty school gutters full of hidden cigarette butts and into toilet blocks where crying girls threw up a family-forced breakfast and small boys wondered when were they ever going to grow up ever going to get it right ever know what to say when to say how to say.
Janine Marsden opened her mouth and out it came. Clear and confident, exactly as the agony aunts had said. Just you go up to them. Ask them. You might as well, they’re going to pick on you anyway. What have you got to lose? Confront them. Bullies can’t stand confrontation, they hate it, it’s why they’re bullies, so they have the power, so they’re in control. Trip them up, play them at their own game, just ask it. I dare you. Just ask it. Go on. Ask. What are you afraid of? How much worse can it be? I dare you. Daring herself.
“Why are you doing this to me?”
Now she was close, now they could see her properly, they were horrified. It was ghastly. Not even funny. And it was embarrassing. Janine Marsden standing there, mouth open so wide her lips had cracked at the edges. Moving her mouth, beating her little balled bitten fists. Like she was speaking, like she was shouting at them, shouting it all out. If it carried on much longer the teachers would know who she was shouting at, the whole fucking school would know who she was shouting at, standing there in front of the five of them, shaking and mouthing off. Someone had to shut her up, someone had to make it stop. Will took a step forward. Her mouth opening and closing and all those words about to come flying out. Only there was no sound, no words. Her eyes wild and those weird fucking clothes she was wearing. Was her jumper on back to front? Her hair piled up on her head, all over the place, so messy. Some really bad eyeliner work going on there. Nothing like she usually looked, none of the hidden mouse like she usually looked. It was gross really. And she was just there with the five of them. No one coming to get rid of her, take her away, fix it, not yet. No one to see what was going on. No one in charge. Yet. Will took charge.
He moved forward then, fast, moved forward to grab Janine’s hand. The one she was slapping her face with, standing on the edge of that little wall, standing there and about to bloody well go over if she wasn’t careful, beating herself up like some mad woman, she really was a mad woman. Will pulled her in close, wanted to grab her hand before she really hurt herself. And then, and he was only trying to fucking help, then she really went off on one. Totally crazy. All he was doing was trying to help, get her away from the edge of the wall, and she was spinning in his arms, she started screaming and fighting out like he was going to hurt her or hit her or rape her or something, as if, as if he’d want to screw her, right? Janine Marsden? I mean, as if. He pointed that out right there and then, to anyone who’d listen, to all of them listening, as if he’d want to touch her. Janine fucking Marsden? You’ve got to be kidding. Daniel Carver backed him up, Andrea Browne laughed out loud at the idea. Laughed out loud at something anyway. Insane she was, had to be, totally mad bitch. But Janine’s screaming had no sound and though the hands tried to reach Will, it was herself she was beating off, beating up. Then Ewan tried to help, thought he had an idea. Some crap about his dad being a doctor, his mum being a nurse, you know how kids always think they can do what their parents do, think they pick it up by osmosis, and Ewan had always wanted to be a doctor and he’d been in the surgery often enough, it was part of his own house, for God’s sake, and he had this idea he could calm her down, get in there, slip between Will and Janine Marsden and the fists with which she was beating herself up. Only he didn’t.
Janine was elated, so pleased with herself. She’d said it now and told the truth, asked them why and dealt with the questions and faced her fears, spoken it all, right out loud. Her own voice flying over the school buildings, out into the street, past all the people walking to work and on the top floor of the dirty buses and up to where the laughing magpies sat watching from the tops of the trees. Janine had said all the words she knew, all the words to make them answer. She wanted Sally to know how it felt, what she’d done, so she said the words, to make them understand. And Janine could see that he was trying to make it better, the boy beside Sally, the one nearest to her now, Ewan. Sally didn’t seem to understand, but maybe that boy did, maybe the agony aunt was right, all she had to do was ask. She wanted to ask Sally why, she needed to get close in, close as she could, to ask Sally why she’d done this, to get her to understand what had happene
d, what she’d done. Sally looked on and really didn’t want to see. Didn’t want to understand.
But then Ewan got in between Janine and that little concrete wall, somehow he pushed Will out of the way and wedged himself between Sally and Janine. And then Janine’s eyes were closed, and she was hitting, at herself, out at herself. And Sally was terrified, hating it, scared of it, the action and the no-sound and the awful, horrible pictures of what had made this happen and she didn’t want to see, didn’t want to know. Sally put out her arms, pushed Janine away, needed her to get away, she was too close, it was all too close. Will still had hold of Janine’s hand, hurting her. Janine pulled away from him, from Ewan, reached for Sally, twisted herself, and then Ewan wasn’t helping anymore, and he wasn’t in the way anymore, and there was a clear route straight to Sally that Janine was going to take, would take. But Ewan was falling. All the way down. Right down.
And when Ewan reached the ground he wasn’t OK like Will Gallagher had been that time he’d jumped down the wall. And he didn’t just sprain his ankle like Daniel Carver had when he’d tried to do it too. And the sound of Ewan’s landing made Andrea throw up, vomit rush to the back of her throat and out onto the concrete steps. The sound of slam and then crunch and then snap. One after the other. Slow motion noise. Slow motion Ewan. The snap was the loudest. Ringing on long after he’d stopped.
And Sally never got to ask Ewan what he thought about that first ever sex, loss of virginity, such a big deal moment in every young person’s life. Hers. Theirs. His. Maybe his. She thought maybe it had been his.
