Trevvvvvvvor! Leggoooooooooooooooooooo!

Trevor winced, knowing this was his last chance before Bri would resort to her ear-splitting crescendo of a scream, and all because Trevor refused to let go of the vase. Not HER vase, but the birthday present for Mom, and the one that he'd just spent the majority of his allowance to buy.

But he wasn't about to let Brianna win this time- after all, he'd paid $7.50 and she only $5- so he grabbed even more ferociously for the vase. Both of their fingers slipped across the wide base of the vase, “You're gonna break it if you don't let me have it!”, Trevor pleaded, just as his hands slipped far enough for Bri to pull away the prize.

“Got it!”, she said, but the vase flew out of her grasp from the force of her pull.

“No, I got it”, said Trevor, deftly rolling to catch the now-airborne vase just before it crashed to the ground. “Told you you'd break it. You should leave these things to a professional, like myself.”

Bri looked back at him with widening eyes, and took a deep breath. “Aieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee”!!!, she screeched, at a tone that could break glass, but Trevor held his ground. He wasn't about to let Brianna bully him. She could scream, but he could wait her out.

But then she stopped screaming. Her voice trailed off, and she stood staring at Trevor. “Are you done?”, he said. “'Cause we should be getting home; it's getting kind of foggy...”

And then his voice trailed off, as he looked down to notice the fog was only coming from the vase. “Whoa”, he said, putting the vase down quickly, and then backing away from it as it began to coalesce.

“I bet it's a djinn”, whispered Brianna, still wide-eyed. “I read about them in a story: they live in vases, and grant you wishes.”

The now-solid form stared at them, expectantly. They stared back, just as expectantly.

“Aren't you supposed to offer us three wishes, or something?”, asked Trevor.

“Um, usually”, said the djinn, “but I'm, uh, rather challenged.”

“Challenged? What kind of challenge could you possibly have?”

The djinn looked uncomfortably at the third finger of his right hand. “Bum finger. Half bitten off by a croc during the last guy's safari wish. I can no longer snap.” His fingers made the snapping motion, as if he'd forgotten it wouldn't work. He looked crestfallen. “Sorry. It's the source of the magic.”

“So how'd you get out of the vase, then?”, Trevor asked.

“Oh, that. That's controlled by a gland in our heads. It's genetic.”, he said. “Hah! It's djinn-etic. Get it?”

Trevor laughed, but his sister nudged him. “We're not supposed to talk to strangers”, she hissed in a whisper.

Trevor thought for a minute. “He's living in OUR vase; that makes him family.” Brianna still looked skeptical, so he continued “... and he's, uh, challenged. Aren't we supposed to help him?”

Brianna relented. “So what do we do? Is there anyone who can fix your finger?”, she asked the djinn.

“Well, you can get me to Egypt. There's an excellent doctor there.”

Trevor was shaking his head. “There's no way we can get you there and be back by dinnertime. “Unless... can you time travel?”, Trevor asked hopefully.

The djinn shook his head. “Time and Love. It's forbidden for us to meddle in either.” He looked thoughtful. “But anything Egyptian will do”, he said. “A pyramid. You can always get there from a pyramid.”

Brianna slumped down. “Where are we going to find something Egyptian in New York?”, she griped. Trevor jumped up, excited. “I know! I know! “

“We are soooo going to be late for dinner.”, mumbled Brianna.

Ten minutes later, they were standing in the Temple room in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, not quite knowing what to do next, when the djinn popped his head out. “What do we do now?”, Trevor hissed, covering the djinn's head with his jacket just as a particularly nosy woman practically grabbed the vase from his hands. “What a realistic-looking urn!”, she gushed, “did you get that in the Museum Store?”

“Yes”, Trevor lied, hoping to get rid of her before she noticed anything, “but there was only one more.” It worked. She hurried off.

“Well, we have to ring up the doctor”, the djinn was saying. Trevor looked at him quizzically, waiting for more useful information. “Hieroglyphics, of course. “

“Maybe we have to spell his name in hieroglyphics by pressing on the rocks”, Brianna offered.

“Get real, Bri.”, Trevor said. “Leave this to the professionals.” He turned to Djinn. “So what do I do? Press his name in hieroglyphics?”

Brianna scowled at him, looked around, and noticed the reflecting pool. She sat down and stared into the gently-shifting water. A flash of color caught her eye, and looking closer, she noticed gossamer figures floating atop the reflective water. No... not on top. Throughout. There were figures throughout the water. A ballerina danced gracefully, fading in and out of view as if swirling atop a music box. Brianna watched her, fascinated. She called to the djinn softly. “Djinn”, she said distractedly, “who are these people?”.

Djinn looked over at her. “You can SEE them!?!”, he said excitedly. He stared hard at her forehead. “Aha! Now I see why... you have an excellent imagination. Well, you'll get a chance to meet them soon.” He turned to Trevor to answer his question. “You do press his name. But don't you know you're not allowed to touch anything in a museum?”

“How do I press the letters if I can't touch them!?!”, Trevor exclaimed.

Djinn shrugged, not sure. “I suppose you'll just have to use your imagination.”

Trevor stared at the hieroglyphs on the sandy wall. “Ok, what's his name?”

Djinn thought for a moment. “Rebus. His name is Dr. Rebus.”

Trevor found the mouth hieroglyph, the symbol for “R”. He closed his eyes and concentrated on etching that symbol into his mind, but opened them when he heard Brianna gasp. The hieroglyph he had just envisioned was now glowing.

He rubbed his hands together. He looked for the E symbol. “There's no E.”, he said disappointedly. “I've never learned the symbol for E.”

Djinn pointed at a glyph of two reeds. “Actually, you can use the double-reed symbol. The Egyptian hieroglyphs are phonemes, and the 'ee' sound is made by 'y', as you might pronounce it in 'happy'. You can even skip the vowels, because they were often not used unless they were needed for clarification. So you can just choose R-B-S.”

With that lesson, Trevor had no trouble illuminating the foot and folded-cloth symbols for the B and S. All three of them stared at the now-glowing hieroglyphs.

And waited. And stared. And waited some more.

Finally Djinn said. “Oh, now I remember. There's one more thing. You have to use the key under the mat.”

Trevor and Bri walked all around the temple, looking for a mat. They walked inside the temple. They stared at the floor, hoping to make a mat appear. They waved their arms, hoping to make a mat appear. They jumped up and down, all the while hoping to make the mat appear. But the only thing that appeared were glares from the other museum-goers. Finally, Trevor sat down and stared at the wall, giving up. “There's no MAT!”, he exclaimed, frustrated.

Brianna pointed right where he was staring. “Yes, there is.”, she said. “There's the mat, the glyph right in front of you, and that viper beneath it must be the key. Do you get it? Rebus is what they call a picture puzzle. The key is UNDER the mat. We find the mat, and the final glyph is whatever is below it.”

Djinn beamed. “That's it! You DO have an excellent imagination!”, he exclaimed, as though he were taking all of the credit for it.

Trevor envisioned the viper, and opened his eyes to check that all four glyphs where glowing. They were. He looked around, expecting a door to appear, when he was startled by his arm, or rather, lack of arm, which appeared to be in the process of sublimation. Djinn grabbed his shoulder with one hand and Brianna with the other, just in time for all three to pop into non-existence.

At least, non-existent to anyone without an imagination.

The transportation was immediate. “...finest way to travel”, Djinn was saying, “is to use your imagination.” Brianna laughed. “I'd say my brother found it somewhat disarming.”

Trevor groaned. “If you two are done yukking it up, I'd like to know where we are.”

Brianna looked around. Hazy figures were milling about, seeming not to notice them at all. She recognized them as visitors to the museum. A leprechaun stood in front of her. Not hazy. Solid. He spoke, with a distinct lilt to his voice. “You're here in Obscurity, lad. But don't worry- no one can see you. So few have the imagination to get here.” Dr. Rebus turned to the djinn. “And now, tell me what brings you here?”

Djinn held up his half-finger.

“Ah. Don’t worry, I can fix that.” He rummaged around, mumbling “djinn fingers, djinn fingers, now where did I put those? Ah, yes, digital storage.”

Trevor and Bri stared at each other in disbelief. Dr. Rebus was a leprechaun! They watched him as he pulled a thin piece of tape from a nest. And another. And another. When he had four pieces, he wrapped them around the djinn’s partial finger, and whistled. Four miniature, really miniature, ducks flew at his call, each one grabbing a loose end. “Duck tape”, said the doctor. “It fixes just about anything.” “Darn it”, the doctor said to the ducks. Immediately, they began weaving the four strands together, magically restoring the djinn’s finger.

The doc looked at the djinn. “You've got about three hours until that finger's healed.

Would you do me a favor in the meantime? This box has got to go to the professor to be refilled. It's an hour's walk across the island. Will you take it to him?” He took out a small box about the size of his palm.

“What's in it?”, Trevor asked.

Dr. Rebus looked at him, and handed him the box. “Why don't you be the one to carry it?” He smiled secretively. “But I can't tell you what's in it. You'll just have to use your imagination.”

They stepped outside the doctor's office into bright sunlight. The streets were busy, and so full of character. Just then, Djinn was nearly bowled over by a young girl hurrying by.

"Excuse moi, monsieur.... I am late to dance class, and have not yet found another dancer! Monsieur Degas will be so disappointed!"

She noticed Brianna looking at her, having recognized her as the twirling dancer she had seen in the reflecting pool. “We are performing Swan Lake tonight, and two of our cygnets have missed rehearsal. Do you know le Danse des petits cygnes? Will you join us?”

At Brianna's enthusiastic nod, the dancer clapped her hands. “Merci! Be there at 7 this evening. Le danse can go on!”

They walked on, eventually coming to a three-way intersection. “Which way?”, Trevor asked. Djinn pointed toward a field, “We can take this dirt road through the olive orchard. It's quite beautiful this time of year.”

It began to rain, and Bri noticed with a shock that the colors in her skirt were running. . “What's happening here?”, she said, a bit frightened. “My new skirt will be ruined!”

Trevor had an idea. “Maybe we can wait out the storm under these cypress trees.”

“Good idea”, Djinn said. “Under there, the raindrops won't even reach us.”

So they waited there, under the cypress trees, until the rain began to subside. To pass the time, Bri studied the raindrop patterns on her skirt, liking its runny, tie-dye sort of look. Djinn looked sympathetically at Brianna. “I'm afraid, Brianna, that while we're here, colors are particularly sensitive to moisture and humidity”, he said.

Not long afterwards, the rain stopped, and they continued along the path until it opened up into a wheatfield. They could hear a woman's voice, most unpleasant, and clearly unhappy with someone. As they passed a haystack, she came into view, and it was not a pretty sight. She wore dark clothes, and wielded a dark gray umbrella, which she tapped angrily on the head of a very young boy. His hobby horse lay on its side, nearby, and the boy kept looking longingly at it, trying not to cry.

“AND – CHIL – DREN – SHOULD – BE – SEEN – AND – NOT – HEARD!”, she was shouting, each syllable accompanied by an angry rap upon the boy's head.

But that was not the worst part. With each rap, a small wisp of smoke leaked out from the boy's ears. Djinn immediately recognized what was happening, and gasped in horror. “She's stifling his imagination! Soon, there will be nothing left of his mind!”

By this end of her tirade, the boy had faded into virtually nothing, the merest impression being all that was left.

“Where'd he go?”, whispered Trevor to Djinn.

Djinn shook his head. “I don't know. But something is wrong with this picture. Very, very wrong. It is entirely out of place for this world.”

Brianna could not contain her horror. “She's like an evil Mary Poppins!”, she squeaked.

“What did you say?” The woman looked around, eyes focusing on Brianna. Before they could run, the evil Mary Poppins had her by the shoulders, and there was nothing they could do to stop her umbrella from rap, rap, rapping on poor Brianna's head. Her previously-bright eyes stared vacantly off in the distance. Soon, she too disappeared.

“Let that be a lesson to you”, she warned Trevor. “Children should be SEEN and not HEARD.”

“Where is she?”, demanded Trevor. “Tell me where my sister is!”

She raised her umbrella, and Trevor knew they had to run. Fortunately, she was not as good at running as she was at rapping, and Djinn and Trevor soon lost her by ducking behind a barn. It took them several minutes before they could catch their breath.

“We've got to find her.”, Trevor said. He didn't realize until now how really fond he was of his sister. “I cannot let her down.”

“Don't worry”, the djinn reassured him. “We will find her. She can't be far.”

“What do you mean!?! She disappeared into thin air! It will be like finding a needle in a haystack!” Trevor dropped his head, forehead touching the box he had almost forgotten he was carrying. It glowed, a bright light radiating from inside. “That's IT! The haystacks! She's hiding them in the haystacks!”

They crept back to the edge of the orchard, where the haystacks were. There was no sign of the woman, or her umbrella, but a farmhand lay propped up against the haystack, napping after a hard morning's work. As they crept past, he suddenly awoke and stretched, and looked directly at them. Djinn put on his most threatening look, and glowered at the newly-wakened man. He was going to bluff his way past, but something told him the farmhand wanted to avoid the umbrella-woman just as much as he did.

“Do you see her anywhere?”, the farmhand whispered. “Señora Sombrilla?”

Djinn responded with relief. “No... do you know her? Where did she come from?”

The farmhand looked around warily. He leaned closer to Trevor and Djinn, and said quietly, “Si, señor. No one knows. She just showed up one day, supposedly visiting for a while. But she wanders around, chastising children, and then they disappear.”

Trevor spoke up. “I think she is hiding them in a haystack.”

“Then I know where to look.”, the farmhand replied, and pointed them to the largest haystack in the field. After only a minute of searching, Trevor found the curtain of straw that marked the entrance. He took a deep breath, parted it, and peeked through.

He was peering down a long corridor, dark and scary.

But he had to save his sister. He motioned for the djinn to follow, and stepped inside.

They followed the corridor for a long time. There were many rooms off to the side, each one with a particular scene painted on the far wall. Virtually every scene imaginable was there: Italian courtyards, French gardens, busy streets and racetracks and bullfights. But there was no one in sight.

“All of these beautiful rooms, and all of them empty. No one to enjoy them. It's shameful.”, Djinn murmured.

“Not all empty”, said Trevor, looking at the doorway of another room, where a small girl stood, wearing an angelic smile and holding a violin.

“Would you like to listen to us play?”, she asked, shyly. “Hughette and I have been practicing a piece from Swan Lake forever. She is going to play at the performance tonight! We are waiting for our sister Helyonne, but she is taking so long, we simply must start practice without her. We haven't seen her all morning.”

Djinn looked at Trevor, each fearing the worst, but they said nothing as they followed her inside. Djinn recognized the older girl seated at a piano in the corner, and greeted her, quickly looking away right afterwards. After that, he closed his eyes and would not look at her anymore. She began to play Danse Espagnole by Tchaichovsky, accompanied by Claudine on the violin, and even Trevor, who had never liked classical music, had to agree it was a fine performance. Afterwards, when the farmhand noted that a blush of color had crept into Djinn's cheeks, he just sighed and said “Those Renoir girls always make such an impression on me.”

But Trevor was impatient to continue, and now they had Helyonne to look for as well, so they continued on, peering into the next room.

The far wall was covered with a scene of a cobblestoned street on a gray, rainy day. It was so dreary, they were about to bypass it, when something caught Djinn's eye. He went across the room to take a closer look. “Look at this. See this hole here? It's like someone burst out of the painting.” Trevor looked at the gap in the painting where Djinn's finger was tracing the ragged edges, and noticed the cutout exactly fit Señora Sombrilla.

He noticed something else, too. “Hey, Djinn”, he said, “your finger is healed.”

Just then, they were distracted by someone calling out to them.

“Hola, amigos”, said a cheery voice from the doorway. “I am Manuel Osorio Manriq-- oh, never mind. Have you seen my cat? She is always wandering off; always looking for new adventures, and falling asleep in a corner somewhere. Sometimes I have to look for hours to find her. Ah! There you are, Cheshire! Asleep as usual, in the comfiest spot you can find.

The three looked at the small boy, who was richly dressed in a bright red velvet suit adorned at the neck and wrists with ornate golden lace. He was heading towards a chair in the corner, upon which a fluffy and rather chubby cat was resting serenely. He turned to gather up his pet, when they heard a shuffling noise behind them.

“There you are, you little brat! It's all your fault, letting your nasty cat run loose! Henri is missing, and it's all your fault!”

It was Señora Sombrilla, shrieking shrilly, with her umbrella pointed directly at the small boy.

“Oh, no, no, no. Cheshire is very friendly. She would not hurt anyone...”, Manuel began, but was cut off as the angry woman stormed toward him, umbrella raised. The small boy stood bravely, more confused than frightened, while Djinn and his friends jumped to his aid. The cat blinked innocently, his huge, watery eyes staring at the woman, full of compassion for her plight.

Just then, another ripping sound tore through the room. “Good news, mon cheri!”, said a spirited voice, as an elegantly-dressed man stepped out of the painting and into the room. “We have found Henri! Inspector Dupin found him on rue Morgue--”.

Before he could finish, the umbrella lady had thrown herself at him, so excited to see her beloved Henri, the miniature French poodle he was carrying.in his arms. She began sobbing in relief, taking the small dog into her arms protectively. The man turned and shrugged helplessly at Djinn and his friends. “C'est la vie”, he said, relieved at seeing his distraught wife reunited with her beloved puppy.

Djinn smiled and nodded his head, understanding at last coming to him. He walked through the wall-sized painting, through the holes left by señora Sombrilla and her husband, and pushed on the far end of the wall. The wall turned around on its center, revealing a new painting, one into which Manuel Osorio Manrique de Zuñiga and his mischievous cat could merge perfectly. He spun the wall again, and the cobblestone street in Paris reappeared.

Djinn looked at the woman and asked, “Are you ready to go back to Chicago?”

She took her husband's hand, and smiled apologetically at them all. The couple and their poodle stepped into the painting, and blended motionless and seamlessly into the scene. Only Djinn caught Cheshire's parting hiss and the poodle's frightened yip, because by the time Manuel gathered the cat in his arms, he was once again wearing an expression which could only be described as a Cheshire grin.

“Let's not invite them again”, Djinn said, a faint glow emitting from his newly-restored finger as it traced the outlines of señora Sombrilla and her husband, sealing it against their return.

“Wait!”, Trevor yelled as he lunged towards the merging couple, just a bit too late. “We still don't know where my sister is!”

Djinn caught him around the waist and scooped him up as he passed him. “Slow down. We don't need them. There's another room back here.”

They went to investigate, half-expecting it to be as empty as most of the others. But this room was not empty. It was, horrifyingly, full of children. Children with vacant stares. Children who gazed, unmoving, at a glass box, with figures moving inside it. Children whose imaginations had been silently, cruelly, evilly, ripped away from them. And who didn't even know it. They continued staring, completely oblivious to the three visitors who had just walked into the room.

“Well, we've found them.”, Trevor whispered. “But they're catatonic. What do we do?”

“Break that glass box.”, the djinn whispered back. “It has them hypnotized. You have to break it.”

“How do I do that?”, Trevor asked.

“Use your...”

“Ok, ok, I certainly know THAT by now.”, Trevor grumbled. He held out the box, and it glowed once again. He threw it, aiming it at the strange glass box, but it fell to the ground, ineffective. The figures continued to dance inside the glass box, and the children continued to stare upon it vacantly.

“It didn't work.”, Trevor said dejectedly. “It didn't work. It was supposed to shatter the glass box.”

He looked around, hoping to spot Brianna. But there were too many children. He couldn't find her in the crowd.

He took a deep breath. “Aieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”, he screeched, in frustration.

He wasn't nearly as good as she was, but it should get her attention. “Aieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”, he heard her answering screech. He did it again, raising it to a higher pitch. Bri never could resist a challenge.

This time, her answering screech was loud, and high-pitched, and capable of shattering glass. The glass box cracked and crumbled, emitting a wisp of smoke that widened into a cone that enveloped the entire crowd of children. A knowing look came back into their eyes, and they began to stir.

They gathered up Brianna, and Helyonne, and the scores of other children, and made sure they all got back to their respective rooms. But evening was falling, and they had not yet brought the box to its destination. Trevor went back to retrieve the box, which had been trampled beyond repair, and was no longer glowing. They exited the haystack and crossed the fields, continuing the last ½ mile to the Professor's house, knocking on the door when they arrived. When he answered, Trevor handed him the box, apologizing again and again for having destroyed it.

“Hah! Did Rebus pull that trick on you, too?” the professor said, drop-kicking the box and stomping it to bits. “It's a useless piece of cardboard. Always was. The only thing that makes it work is your imagination.”

“But it glowed. It had magic powers.”, Trevor stammered.

The professor smiled, and shook his head. “Nope. It was always you. So don't go looking in boxes for something you can find right here.”, the professor said, tapping Trevor on the forehead. “Now, I think we are all in a hurry to get to the dance, aren't we?”

They got to the theatre, Highette played the piano brilliantly, and Brianna danced her heart out. And for one last time that day, Trevor used his imagination, to get them home before dinner.

* * *

Back at the museum, two workmen carefully opened a huge box. The curator stared inside. “Is that the Goya we loaned to Chicago? But what is this? A second painting? That's not supposed to be there- it's a Caillebotte, I'm sure of it. Get Chicago on the phone right away, and let them know about their mistake. We'll send it back first thing in the morning. And... I could swear that cat is grinning.”