RJ sped past his sisters, rifle case slung over his back.

"Hey Hersh," he called. "Wait up!"

Hershel Rhee, just turned fifteen, stopped and adjusted his own case. "The hell man," he said, brushing the chestnut hair out of his eyes. "I waited."

They walked side by side without a word for a few steps before Hersh turned to him with a smile. "Oh, did you hear? The Quest got in 400 discs, good as new!"

RJ shrugged. "I don't really like old music," he said.

"That's because you never heard the good stuff," Hersh said, pulling a CD case out of his jacket pocket. The boys stopped, both gazing at the jewel box. It had a drawing of a blindfolded woman holding a scale like the one in the infirmary. In the corner, the words "AND JUSTICE FOR ALL" were scrawled.

RJ paused, then made a face. "That sounds like something my dad would like."

"No, no," Hersh protested, "No man, Nick at the Quest told me, Metallica used to be the shit. His actual words."

"In the nineteen hundreds," RJ said, starting to walk again.

Hershel huffed and stuffed the case back in his pocket. "I'm telling you, this disc will change your life, RJ! After practice, we're listening to it."

"Fine," RJ sighed.

This is how it worked on the walk to school: Judy walked in front, like she owned the town. Dede walked five steps behind her, because Judy had made her do it last year when she was going through a being sick and tired of her sisters phase, and she never told her to stop. Andi walked five steps behind DeDe because DeDe made her, because she copied everything Judy did. Mom said it was because she idolized her, but that didn't make it less annoying.

Today, DeDe was nearly on Judy's heels.

Judy rolled her eyes and turned to her sister. "What?"

Neither girl missed a step.

"Did you make it?"

"What?"

"Your eyeshadow and stuff."

Judy paused, her medical textbook held against her chest. "Oh. Yeah. It's mostly powdered hydrangea petals." She glanced at DeDe. "It wears off in about 20 minutes, though. Don't tell Dad."

"I won't!" DeDe smiled. There was nothing she loved more than sharing a secret with Judith.

Tara - or Ms T, as the kids called her, scrawled out the word LOCKSTITCH on the blackboard and turned to her class of 17, one of three mixed level classes in town. She'd had the Grimes kids in her classes since it was just Judy learning to read, followed by Hersh Rhee. By the time Andi started school, there were almost 40 kids in Alexandria, some who had been born there, some who had migrated with their families to what they'd heard folks out to the west referred to as "The Promised Land."

Reading was taught to the four-to-sevens, along with basic math. But the main focus of their studies was AIM - agriculture, infrastructure, medicine.

She added the word SUTURES to the board.

"OK," she said, turning to the class. "Today we're doing another lockstitch suture exercise," She pointed toward RJ and Hersh with two fingers and opened them like a V. "Separate, you two."

"We weren't doing anything!" Hersh protested.

"I said you were being separated for the rest of the term. Did you think I was joking?"

"Oh, come on!" RJ said.

"Or I could just give you detention right now," she said.

RJ was out of his seat before she finished. "Fine, God," he muttered as he moved to the other side of the room.

Tara crossed her arms. She loved these kids like they were her own, and, like any good parent would, she didn't take any shit from them.

"OK," she said, picking up a stack of pig skins and laying on on each desk as she talked. "I want my thirteen and ups to give me one flawless lockstich suture, three inches long." A moan rose from the center of the room. She stopped. "OK, four inches." She continued. "You get five minutes, one chance, if the edges aren't even and the stitches aren't straight, that's a fail."

More moans. "This is a basic life skill, guys," Tara said. "If you're thirteen and can't give me one good lockstitch, I'm not doing my job." She handed the last student a skin and stood in front of the board. "Eight to twelves, you're going to watch the thirteens and up, then you'll have ten minutes to do it yourself the best you can…."

DeDe raised her hand. "Can I do it with the thirteens and ups?"

Tara feigned surprise. "Oh, DeDe, is it your birthday?"

DeDe blinked.

"No, it's not," Tara said. "You're with the eight to twelves. Rules are rules."

Michonne flipped through the day's files at her desk.

"More chicken cases?"

Rick looked up from his tablet and shrugged. "You don't mess with people's chickens."

Michonne sighed. Once a week, she mediated disputes, and, when it came up, which wasn't often, heard criminal cases.

"I don't get it," she said. "These people aren't starving. Brett Davis? He's got more than we do, why is he - allegedly - stealing the Fowlers' chickens?"

"Well," Rick said, sitting back in his chair. "As long as there's value in something, there'll be stealing."

"Maybe we should stop making these civil cases," she said. "Make them criminal. Attach some real consequences."

Rick exhaled sharply. "I don't think we have the holding space for that."

"We don't have to put them in jail …" Michonne got up and started pacing like she did when she was frustrated.

Rick leaned forward. "Chonne, this is nothing. It's nothing ."

"I know, but -"

"It's a few chickens. Davis'll compensate the Fowlers, done deal. We all move on."

"To the five other chicken cases I have this week."

"It's not that many."

"We kept all the livestock in a central pen, it was a problem. Now people can keep their own chickens - it's a problem."

Rick stood up and faced her, cutting off her pacing. "Well… maybe we could add a chicken detail to Patrol."

"It isn't funny."

"I'm not laughing," he said, but he was.

She looked at him and shook her head lightly. "OK, it's kind of funny."

"Yeah." He shifted. "Want to meet at RJ's shooting practice later?"

"If I'm done here, yeah," she said. "Where are you going?

"Patrol briefing." He leaned in and gave her a kiss. "Good luck with the chickens."

"I'll try."

"You'll figure it out," Rick said, opening the door to leave. "I'll keep an eye out for anything suspicious. Somebody's got to clean up these mean streets."