I was jealous every time a classmate broke a limb or changed the color of the bands on their braces. I wanted their apartments, their pets, their magazine subscriptions, their divorced parents, the lunches their divorced parents packed for them. When my friend’s parents separated, she began to see the school’s guidance counselor once a week and one time, she took me with her. We played Connect Four and Guess Who? and the counselor would interject now and again with questions like, “How are you feeling today?” and “Do you feel better than you did last week?” and my friend would respond but was mostly concerned with whether or not I wore glasses or had a mustache or if my name ended with the letter “A.” When it was over, I felt bad that the guidance counselor hadn’t invited me back for my own sessions.