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still wary, accepts. He’s curious to know more about this strange girl. He follows her in.
    â€œThis is our spot,” she says, proudly indicating a small room lined with posters.
    A banner hangs against the back wall:
Continuons le combat! Contre les mesures de guerre! Québec libre!
    Piles of leaflets are heaped on desks, nearly covering several textbooks. A Gestetner duplicating machine sits on a desk next to a typewriter.
    â€œIs this how you study at Cégep?”
    â€œIt’s not just the classes that count. We have to pay attention to politics when we learn, too. You’re not one of Trudeau’s federalists, I hope?”
    The boy looks at her mocking face, and wonders who she thinks she is, a student explaining to the layperson just what is good for him? As if there weren’t enough priests already.
    He’d like to give her a piece of his mind, but thinks better of it. Now isn’t the time, if he wants to grab that coffee with her.
    She keeps talking, using the same words that were in the leaflet. He watches her closely, but he isn’t really listening. She’s making no sense, speaking in a different language, but she’s so pretty in her fit of passion that he doesn’t say anything. He’d even be willing to agree with her to keep hearing her talk. Gaétan’s silence encourages the girl.
    Suddenly, the three boys barge into the room for more leaflets.
    â€œAre you coming, Louise?”
    â€œOne second, I’m finishing up explaining what we’re doing.”
    â€œLucky guy, getting private lessons!” one of them says sarcastically to Gaétan. “If he’s bothering you, I can take over, Louise.”
    â€œIt’s ok, Jacques. He’s not from Cégep.”
    â€œWhere’s he from? Not a spy, I hope,” says the second boy. “We need to be ready for anything from the police right now. You know that the administration’ll ban our group at the slightest provocation.”
    Louise shrugs.
    â€œYou’re paranoid! I told him to come. He works at Dominion Textile.”
    Gaétan is uneasy being the centre of attention and wonders if he should just leave as soon as possible.
    The third boy, who has turned on the radio and is listening to the news, calls for their attention.
    â€œHey, guys! The three big unions have come together to call for the War Measures Act to be revoked. They condemn the FLQ’s actions, but they’re calling for all people being arbitrarily detained to be released.”
    â€œYeah! Bravo! Great!”
    Gaétan’s thoughts go immediately to Luc, hoping he’ll be released soon. He gets up.
    â€œI have to go.”
    â€œWait up, I’ll walk with you.”
    Louise seems relieved to leave the room and find herself alone with him.
    â€œAre you coming back tomorrow?”
    â€œI don’t think so,” he replies, feeling like he doesn’t belong here among all these students.
    â€œTomorrow’s Friday, and I have the afternoon off. Come meet me, we can go for a walk. Do you know the Chat Noir? It’s a café not far from here, on Sherbrooke. I’ll be there at one. Come by if you want.”
    â€œMaybe…”

9
Friday, October 23
    T oday, the temperature has fallen below zero. The sun is shining and the sky is a bright blue. There isn’t a drop of moisture in the air. The horizon is sharp, as if carved out by a knife. But the city spreading from underneath Gaétan’s feet isn’t the one that he knows.
    Of course he can recognize Domi­nion’s chimneys off in the distance, dominating Saint-Henri, further still is the river, and on the horizon he can see the mountains of the Eastern Townships. But to get to where he is standing, he has crossed through a part of the city he never knew existed.

    Gaétan couldn’t wait to see Louise again. After his shift and a few short hours of sleep, he went to meet her at the Chat Noir,