For a moment, at his question, Beverly glances at the driver, though she's not sure why it matters. It isn't as if she'll ever see him again or as if this involves him at all. She really doesn't want to be written off as crazy, though, something that seems likelier from a stranger than it does from Hopper. It sounds crazy, of course, but in the event that he doesn't believe her, she'll just tell him to ask around. There are other kids at the Home who've had experiences like she has, and she knows that some of the staff is aware of it, too. Hell, there are probably more of them willing to admit now that things aren't right than there were before. What can be done about that, she doesn't know, but it's something, a far cry better than the persistent obliviousness she saw in adults in Derry.

"Like... like people are seeing things. Hearing things," she says when she's confident enough that the driver isn't paying much attention to them, shrugging a moment later. "Creepy shit. And different for everyone." Eddie's leper, Bill's brother, Stan's woman, she thinks, absently pressing a fingernail into the scar across her palm as if that might keep such thoughts present. They all saw something different, but they were wrong when they first talked about it. It was real. This is, too. "And then there's other stuff, like food going bad early, or really gross bugs. A couple weeks ago, a girl went missing, and one of the staff members still swears that she was there in the Home one second and gone the next."