Sometimes Seneca wished that she was born a male. The funny thing was that she could become a man if she wanted to, but it wouldn't be socially acceptable. Her metamorphic powers couldn't have settled into a male identity when she was born. This would have made her life so much easier. Even as a third son, she could have done so much more with her metamorphic powers. It was too late for that now. She couldn't just decide to be a boy, even if she wouldn't even have to change her name for that. It had been almost prophetic, to be given the name of some male Roman philosopher.

‘‘If you knew how to make it stop for good, you would have told me,’’ Seneca replied with a small shrug of her shoulders. ‘‘I thank you for your support, Madam Sykes.’’

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