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cover up with his hand. “I think Dusetto-san deserves the prize for the most entertaining homework adventure. Even if it wasn’t technically still the weekend.” Ikeda-sensei reaches into the bag and pulls out a red, papier-mâché sphere and puts it on the desk in front of me. It takes me a few seconds to realize that it has a face. “Wow. Thanks for the…erm.” I don’t know what this thing with bushy eyebrows and huge white eyeballs but no pupils is. “Daruma,” David says from his solo table. “That’s right, Takamatsu-san,” Ikeda-sensei says. “It’s supposed to be a good luck talisman,” David says, and everybody looks at him. “What? I am Japanese. Sorta. Daruma are old-
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