Page 94 of Rebellious

“CJ will be in school tomorrow,” Diesel explained. “Rebel’s coming home today.”

“I understand my role, Mr. Caldwell. I am not the one who gives your brother a hard time.”

Diesel stiffened. “Is there another Lumbley?”

“Nothing to that extent,” Billson said with a shrug, finally setting his red pen aside and leaning back in his seat. “But—”

“No fucking buts,” Diesel snapped. At least he wasn’t an asshole only to Easton. “You’re on our payroll to report any teacher who gives CJ a problem.”

“Part of that is educating the uneducated, Mr. Caldwell. I’m a teacher first. I think CJ needs to learn to stand up for himself. If you or Outlaw intervene for every little thing, that will never happen. How can he become a leader if you don’t allow him to lead?”

“We gave you the job because CJ seems to like you. I recommended you to Outlaw. Don’t make me regret that decision,” Diesel warned darkly.

“I value living, Mr. Caldwell. I didn’t amass lifelong debt for school loans to die before they are fully paid. Nor did I spend years seeking a higher education only to have that dream crash and burn.”

“Billson’s right about CJ, Diesel. Those teachers may be testing the kid.”

Diesel half turned and leveled a glared at Easton.

“Wilhemhein definitely is,” Billson said. “Flotsam is just a stickler. Not a good fit for the school’s vision, but a damn good teacher.”

“Wilhemhein is CJ’s math teacher and Ms. Flotsam, one of the few women in the upper school, is his English lit teacher,” Diesel explained, low-key impressing Easton.

He wouldn’t have thought the arrogant motherfucker that invested in anyone except himself.

“Any help you need, Mr. DeLuca, I am more than happy to give,” Billson said.

“If that’s the case, why didn’t you take the fucking job yourself?” Diesel asked crossly. “Easton isn’t even a fucking school administrator.”

Billson’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Outstanding.”

Easton was sick of Diesel’s bullshit. “You offered me the fucking job, well aware of my goddamn credentials.”

“Outlaw offered you the job, asshole.”

“And of course you didn’t fucking agree. You’re the most disagreeable fuckhead I’ve ever met.”

Turning around, Diesel stormed to Easton and shoved him. “I’m also your fucking sponsor. Disrespect me at your own risk.”

Another motherfucker and Easton might’ve tested that. Diesel was on par with Bash—next level insane.

“It isn’t my fucking intention to disrespect you, Diesel,” Easton gritted. “But how the fuck can I get respect here in order to protect the kids if you talk to me any fucking way? That shit undermines what the fuck you want me to do.”

Diesel gnashed his teeth together. “Fine, motherfucker,” he bit out, then jabbed his finger in Easton’s chest. “But for every infraction you commit against me here, I take it out on you in blood and sweat at the club. Am I clear?”

“Yes, fuckhead,” Easton said, low. “Perfectly.”

“Coordinate with Billson. Get a report every evening about each of our kids and how their teachers are treating them.”

“How many kids, in total, are in this school?”

“A few hundred,” Diesel said.

“And what is my job with them?”

“That of a regular principal, Easton,” Diesel said. “This is a fucking school, after all.”

“Lately, CJ and Rebel are home more than they are here,” Billson interjected. “That automatically lessens the load. Miss Banks and Miss Donovan—Harley and Matilda—are never a problem.”