The Day Before Forever by Anna Caltabiano

stopped. “It’s policy for us to ask to see the ID of anyone who might look younger than thirty. Is that a problem?”
    â€œWe—” I started.
    â€œWe don’t have our IDs with us,” Henley said. “We must have left them back in our room.”
    I was surprised Henley even knew what an ID was. I supposed that was one of the things he picked up as a ghost peering into all times simultaneously.
    â€œI’m sorry,” the barman said. “We can’t serve you without ID.”
    Henley nodded and stood up.
    â€œDo you want to eat somewhere else?” Alanna asked. “Or we could try buying food and bringing it outside. The weather’s so nice anyway.”
    â€œThat actually sounds like a great idea,” Henley said. He started digging through his pocket for cash.
    â€œNo, no,” Alanna said.
    â€œBut—”
    â€œAbsolutely not.”
    â€œThank you,” I said.
    Henley looked a bit defeated as he pulled me outside.
    Once we were outside, I squinted past the lowering sun at Henley. “Why couldn’t you just say we didn’t have IDs instead of saying we left them in our room? What if Alanna wants us to get our IDs for something else later?” I hissed.
    â€œYou can’t travel without some form of identification,” Henley said. “That’s true in any time.”
    I sighed. He was right, and there was no way around it.
    I heard a cough and I looked up, about to ask Henley what he wanted now. But it wasn’t Henley.
    A man in an oversized sweatshirt approached us from around the corner of the pub. He had graying facial hair that looked like it hadn’t been shaved in a week. His brown hair was plastered to his forehead and the sides of his face with what looked like sweat.
    He had a gruff voice. “Saw you guys get kicked out.”
    â€œAnd what of it?” Henley drew himself up.
    â€œYou need ID to sit in there.”
    â€œSo we heard,” I said.
    The man grinned, and I saw he had yellowed teeth.
    â€œI have a person who could hook you up.”
    â€œHook us up?” I had no idea what that phrase meant.
    â€œMy guy specializes in IDs—driver’s licenses andpassports . . . He does other things too.”
    Henley’s hands were clenched. “We don’t—”
    â€œHow much?” I asked.
    Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Henley’s face blanch, but I kept my eyes trained on this strange man.
    â€œRebecca, you don’t mean—”
    I ignored Henley. “How much?” I asked again.
    â€œNothing we can’t negotiate,” he said.
    â€œWould we have to pay up front?” I asked.
    His eyes darted the length of the street. “I’d prefer not to discuss this here . . . Where are you staying?”
    â€œRebecca . . .”
    â€œThe Brock Terrace Hostel.”
    â€œNice and close.” The man leered. “I’m looking forward to doing business with you.”
    Just at that moment, Alanna and Peter came tumbling out of the dark doors of the pub.
    â€œDon’t drop it, Peter!”
    The man looked alarmed for a second. “I’ll find you,” he quickly said before turning the corner and taking off.
    â€œWell, that man was sure creepy.” Alanna stood with her hands on her hips. “Wherever you go, even across the world, each country definitely has its own creeps.”
    I didn’t think they had caught much of what the man said, so I simply smiled.
    Peter walked toward us with paper plates of fried fish and a mountain of french fries.
    â€œFish and chips!” Alanna squealed. “They wouldn’t let you eat them inside, so we decided to bring them out to you. I didn’tknow if you liked salt, vinegar, tartar sauce, or ketchup, so I just put them all on the side.”
    My stomach gurgled its thanks. I couldn’t remember the last time I had eaten.
    â€œLet us pay you back . . . ,” Henley