In the cafeteria, the following day, a big guy with a scar across his eye sat across from Milan while they were eating dry, brittle bread.

“Fellas, wanna hear a joke?” A fusion of spit and food sprang from his mouth as he spoke. “Why did the picture go to jail? Because it was framed!”

Laughter erupted from the row. Fists thumped on the refectory table, food flying up, then back down on the trays. This had to have been the guy Eli heard the joke from.

Milan’s eye twitched. These people were ten times worse than his father. If his mother saw this, she’d never complain about him again.

“Wanna hear an even better joke?” Eli carried her food tray to the table, squeezing between Milan and the guy beside him. “Why did the prisoner cross the road? To get to the other side. Cuz that’s where the prison was.”

The pin-drop silence lasted one second. One second before all hell broke loose. Screams and yells rose to the ceiling. Trays were hurled across the cafeteria, the food spattering across the table, on the ground and walls. People hopped on the table with their dirty shoes. Someone flew head-down to the floor, and another punched him.

“I’m not going to prison! You’re going to prison!” he said.

Out of the corner of Milan’s eye, a tray flitted toward his face. He ducked his head, the tray sailing right over.

Milan breathed hard through his nose. “What the hell, Eli?”

But Eli wasn’t there. She stood on tiptoe at the top of the table with her fist in the air, screaming: “Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!”

Milan slapped his own forehead. Eli was the worst. One second was all it took for this detention center to turn into a zoo. All because of her stupid jokes.

With an arched back, Milan crept to the corner. It was a massive horde of brawling men, food, and yelling. A piece of bread landed by Milan’s feet, and that was when his eyes fell on it. A vent hanging low in the wall.

Milan’s glance darted around the cafeteria. Everyone was busy chucking food, trays, and plastic utensils at each other, jumping on the table, or beating someone up. Milan was lucky they were all idiots.

He bent over and tugged the grille. The left side opened halfway. His vision caught a glint of something, as Milan squeezed his arm through.

“What’s going on here?!” The officers rushed into the cafeteria, each with a baton.

Milan yanked his arm back and bolted upright.

“Get down from the table!” They ordered. The screams subdued as they dragged the inmates off the table, pinning their arms behind their backs.

“I don’t wanna go to prison!” A voice cried.

An officer rushed toward Milan and cuffed his arms.

“I’m not involved in this,” Milan said.

“Nice try. But y’all are going to your cells until y’all learn to behave.”

And then, they were back to where they came from. Back in the cell, where the dull, gray walls fit so close, it was as if they curved in on one another.

“Now what?” Eli sat on the bed, with her back leaned against the wall.

Milan went down on all fours and pressed the palm of his hands against the hardwood flooring.

“What’re you doin’?”

“Trying to find an opportunity,” Milan said. “You wanted to escape, right?”

Eli’s eyes sparkled. “You’re in?!”

“I never said that. I just want to determine if we even have a chance.”

“Go, MW!” Eli chuckled, jumping and thumping her feet on the floor. “I’ll help.”

MW? My initials? Milan thought. “Stop it. They’ll hear you.”

But she wasn’t listening. The floor creaked underneath her feet as she sprang back and forth between the floorboards. Milan’s eyes followed them, but the boards remained steady in their places, not moving an inch. Why would they? This was a highly secured detention center. They had to have conducted a hundred security checks in the cells. And even if they did find a way to remove the boards, it wouldn’t mean they’d be able to escape.

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“What’s going on in there?!” Sharp knocks hammered on the door.

Milan leaped to his feet. “Nothing, officer! We were just… uh, exercising. Burning calories and all.”

“We had a lot for breakfast,” Eli said.

“Well, stop that noise! Ya’ll gotta learn to behave, or ya’ll won’t be getting outta there.”

“Understood,” Milan said. He faced Eli with his brows knitted together.

But Eli dumped on the bed, her eyes taking on a far-away look. “Now what?”

Milan tapped his foot softly against the ground. “Our escape depends on two things. One, if we can break through this floor, somehow. And two, it depends on what’s under there.”

“We can dig an underground tunnel.”

“No way,” Milan said. “That’ll take too long. I don’t have the patience for that.”

Eli stood, wearing a smug smile. “And you’d have to do it on your own.”

“What do you mean?” Milan asked. But it wasn’t difficult to guess.

“I’m bein’ transferred. Wasn’t s’posed to be here in the first place. It was a system error or somethin’ like that, they said.”

That made sense. Milan had heard about cases where women had been sent to male detention centers due to systematic failures or administrative mistakes. He’d considered that since he first saw her. Was it her name? Eli Easton wasn’t exactly a feminine-sounding name. Maybe they had failed to correctly assess her identity based on that. If she was even telling the truth about her name.

Milan ambled around the cell with crossed arms. “Then we have a problem. There’s no way we can dig an underground tunnel, so that’s out of the question. We won’t be able to lift the floorboards without the right materials. And we can’t count on getting lucky and finding a loose one. But —” He pulled up a pocketknife from his ankle, where his sock had kept it pressed against his skin. “We can work with this.”

Eli’s fingers reached for the knife. “Where’d you get that?”

“The vent in the cafeteria. I have no idea why it was there.”

Eli lifted her head high, pointing with a limp finger. “So that’s how it is.”

“What?”

“It was smuggled in. You know Chet, the dude that told that lame joke this mornin’? He’s got somethin’ on one of them guards. That guard’ll do anythin’ to protect his secret, so he smuggles stuff here on the bastard’s orders.” She pushed her lips forward. “You saw how everyone laughed at that lame joke? That’s ‘cuz they gotta act nice, so he can get them what they want.”

So, there was already a system going on around here. What kind of secret was the guard willing to protect to such an extent? And besides…

“How does that explain how the knife ended up in the vent?” Milan asked.

“That’s easy-peasy. All the vents on the second floor — this floor — end up in the cafeteria vent on the first floor. It’s how the smugglin’s not been found out yet.” Eli linked her arms together across her chest. “Bastard gets to choose his own cell, too.”

“How do you know all this?”

“It’s called socializin’.”

“You’ve gathered that much information in a few days by socializing?” Milan asked.

“Somethin’ like that. You should try it sometime.”

“I’m not socializing with criminals.”

“Then you’re also a criminal, ‘cuz you’re here.”

Milan’s lips protruded in a pout. “My situation has… special circumstances.”

“Enough borin’ talk,” Eli said. “Let’s begin operation break-out.”

“I never agreed to that.” Those were the words coming out of Milan’s mouth. But did he mean them? If he stayed, he knew he was screwed. He couldn’t count on getting lucky and being declared innocent. Even if he was, he’d never be able to clear his name. People would still wonder about him.

Milan wasn’t going to waste time here. His fingers trailed the floorboards, reaching one in the middle of the cell — the one that had creaked the most when Eli had jumped on it. It wasn’t loose, but it was their best bet.

“Listen at the door and alarm me if you hear someone approaching,” Milan said. Then, he scraped the knife under the nail and wrenched it sideways, first from the left. Then, from the right. Over and over again until it came off. Milan wiped off the sweat trailing down the side of his face.

The blade left scratches on the floor. He had to be careful. If the scratches became too obvious, the guards would notice.

Milan continued yanking the nails out, but one floorboard wasn’t enough. He’d have to remove one or two more.

Crouching, he wrenched the remaining nails with the knife until they were removed. His arms ached, barely able to lift the boards.

But it was just the beginning. Of course there’d be a subfloor, nailed, just like the floorboards. Milan repeated the process, this time putting in more effort. Drops of sweat gathered on his forehead as he lifted them. A dark hole emerged in the middle of the room. He stuffed his head through the opening, surrounded by joists and crosspieces, but dust slipped its way to his lungs before he could see anything. He coughed, his breath rasping in his throat.

“Quick!” Eli said. “Someone’s comin’.”

Milan sprang. He placed the floorboards over the hole and threw the knife and nails under his bed. With a rigid position, he stood, facing the door. His throat burned from trying to hold in the cough.

Eli broke into laughter. “Kiddin’, kiddin’. I can’t hear nothin’ when you’re dying from a virus over there.” She banged her fist sideways into the door. “You’re takin’ too long. It’s too borin’ trying to listen through this metal door.”

The door slid open, and Eli jumped. Two officers appeared in the doorway.

“It’s time to attend education,” one of them said.

Milan bit his lip. So close. They were so close to finding out what was below this floor. Milan shook his head as they were led through the hallway. It didn’t matter. After this, he’d find out where that hole led to. And that discovery would either make or break their chances of getting out of here.