"It depends," Beverly says, shrugging as she waits for her ball to come back up through the machine, shifting her weight a little restlessly. "There's a curfew, so as long as I'm back by then, that's fine, but if I'm going to be out later than that, or stay the night somewhere, I have to get someone to sign me out. They don't trust us that much." The last is a joke, though she supposes there's truth in it, too. It makes sense, of course. Kids probably shouldn't be left to run rampant and do whatever the fuck they want. She still, though, for all that she doesn't miss home at all, misses some of the freedom that came with being able to sneak out and do whatever the hell she wanted.

Picking her ball back up when it emerges, she balances it in one hand and then the other before gearing up to take her next shot. "Before you ask, no, I haven't tried sneaking out yet."