“You don’t need me to be brave anymore, do you?” she asked.
“My imaginary friend is Bunnyjanjan,” she said softly. bunnyjanjan janella ooi
From that night on, Bunnyjanjan became Janella’s secret companion. She would hide in Janella’s hoodie pocket during school, whispering funny comments about math problems (“Why is x always missing? Did anyone look behind the sofa?”). At lunch, when Janella sat alone under the old banyan tree, Bunnyjanjan would draw tiny, glowing doodles in the air—shooting stars, laughing caterpillars, teacups that waltzed. “You don’t need me to be brave anymore, do you
And then, from her tablet screen, Bunnyjanjan leaped out—not as a ghost, but as a radiant hologram of kindness. She danced around the stage, painting rainbows with her ears, and whispered in every child’s ear: “You have magic too. You just forgot to look.” She would hide in Janella’s hoodie pocket during
Janella closed her eyes. “That’s because she’s shy. Just like me.”
One day, the school announced a city-wide art fair. The theme was “Imaginary Friends.” Most kids brought stuffed toys or described dragons. But Janella, nervous and trembling, stepped onto the stage with only her tablet.