A school off script. 

What makes up a school?  Kids.  Textbooks.  Teachers.  Noise.  Daylight.  Strip these away, one by one, and start stacking up midnight hours against the vacant building, what might you find?

Maybe, a small corner of Stray Country.

You see, if you're a boy like Billy, a boy who's begun to wonder if he's being followed by a white plastic grocery sack, then you're also a boy that can see a school is only a school when all the right ingredients are stirred together.  But take them away one by one, mix in silence, space, quiet, nighttime, flickering fluorescents - and the tight threads of school begin to unravel . . .

There's a science book in there somewhere.  At least, there was by day.

And a janitor.

The type of man who might just whisper to white plastic sacks.