Janine Jane Westaway

There was a girl in my class who was killed. She and her best friend, Marama, were coming home with some boys on an ordinary Saturday night in the fifth form. They came off the motorway and ploughed into the centre pillar of the overbridge. And Janine died instantly. Thats what they told us at school on Monday. Thats what it said in the paper next to pictures of somebodys dads car crumpled up like a Coke can. Thats what the coroners report said. And thats what everybody always says when they talk about Janine. The thing is, I say an ordinary Saturday night, and I suppose it was for Janine. But coming home in a car with boys wouldnt have been ordinary for Sandy and I. We were lucky if we managed to cross the street with a boy, let alone go on a date. Janine was popular and pretty. Everyone in 5E thought she looked like Michelle Pfeiffer. Sandy and I hated her. This was easier if we didnt talk to her much. But even when we werent talking to her, it was hard to ignore the fact that although she was so pretty, and popular, she wasnt just some sort of TV weather girl bimbo. She always got amazing marks in maths tests. She had a terrific Maori accent. And the English teacher was always going on about her essays. One of our options that year was Assertiveness Training for Girls. Sandy and I did it because we were being feminists. Wed decided we liked each others company best and werent going to let anyone hassle us. Especially fifth form boys and city council bus drivers. We were peeved when Janine turned up. What did she need assertiveness training for? Our trainer, Liz, told us about the four-step thing. One tell the person what they did. Two tell them how it made you feel. Three tell them how you would have liked them to do it differently. And Four tell them how youd feel if they did do it differently. We practised on our friends. I told Sandy, You know when you went to McDonalds on Saturday with Karen and you didnt ask me, well that really hacked me off and I think you ought Liz was listening. She held up a hand. One step at a time, she said. Have another go. So I started again. You went giggle to McDonalds on Saturday. Without me giggle. I was hacked off and You meant your feelings were hurt? says Liz. Well, you should say so. By the time Id got through all four steps the bell had gone. Sandy and I began to have doubts about assertiveness. I mean, you havent always got twenty minutes to tell someone why theyre hacking you off, have you? The next week, Sandy had a go. She made up something about how every time she asked me what I was going to wear Id say, like, jeans, and then turn up in a skirt. I think were meant to do real ones, I said.
English/Janine/Joan

That is real, she said. Thats what you do. We didnt giggle much during that one. When everyone had finished, Liz said, That was all very easy with your best friends, wasnt it. You probably do it a lot of the time anyway without thinking about it. The real test is to be able to do it with someone you dont know very well or someone you dont like. So Im going to pair you alphabetically. People groaned. And I felt even worse when I remembered that Janine and I were right next to each other Harris and Harrison. She smiled at me. The Michelle Pfeiffer smile. Im not sure what I did. Tried to look cool, I expect. I dont know what to say, I said. Thinking I couldnt say that her being so pretty and popular and clever hurt my feelings, and would she please stop. Id like to have seen what Liz made of that. I can think of something, she said. Ill do it to you. OK, I said. Cool. OK, she said, and seemed to take a deep breath. One whenever you see me or speak to me or I speak to you, you get this look on your face. She stared at the floor, thinking. Its like youre looking right through me and out the other side. Like I dont exist. Two it makes me feel horrible when you do that. Sometimes I want to cry. Three you dont have to be my friend. You dont even have to speak to me or anything. But I wish youd treat me like a person. A real person. Four She shrugged and finally looked at me. Four Id be a lot happier at school if you did. Janine, that was terrific, cried Liz. Very well done. I cant remember what happened next. But I remember how I felt. A terrible crawling feeling in my stomach. And I never said anything to Sandy about what Janine had said. The whole of 5E went to Janines funeral. It was the saddest thing Ive ever seen. Everyone was crying and all these important looking flowers and a shiny coffin and photos of Janine propped up against it. The photos gave me a shock. Now that she was dead, now there were only photos to look at, she looked like Michelle Pfeiffer again. She hadnt looked like that since the day in assertiveness training. We hadnt become friends or anything. I doubt if we spoke to each other any more than we used to. But I lost interest in looking at her all the time and talking to Sandy about her. And she began to look well, not ordinary, because I could still see she was pretty but she looked like Janine. I still think about her every time something important happens. Like when I heard I got four School Cert. subjects, a few months after she was killed. And when I got my first job. And when I first saw my sisters baby. I dont feel sad exactly because, like I said, she wasnt a friend. But I feel something. I think these are things Janine wont ever know about. Because she died instantly. Except she didnt, for me, did she?

English/Janine/Joan