There were three of them, just like me and my sisters.  There was one to follow each of us around in school.
                    The teachers hated them.  Those boys were always causing trouble, not class clowns so much as stink-bombers and snake sneakers.
                    They were the ones you always had to watch out for.  The kind that made the old ladies in the store hold their milk and bread closer, edge up to the cash register sooner.
                    The middle one asked me about my sister years later, salivating as he mentioned her, making my skin crawl.
                    They had something in the eyes, my mama said, that made you wonder what they’d been up to their whole lives.