Caught drunk in high school

I arrived at school late… and smelling like I had been negotiating with alcohol all night.
I tried to walk in casually like nothing was wrong, like I was just “delayed by traffic.” Problem is, even the wind was exposing me.
Then I heard it.
“Simama hapo.”
Deputy Principal.
Game over.
I froze mid-step like a goat that has seen its future. Slowly, I turned. He was just standing there, calm… too calm. That kind of calm that comes with consequences.
“Kuja ofisini.”
That short sentence carried the weight of my entire report card.
The walk there? Long. Painful. Reflective. I even considered transferring schools mentally.
I entered the office. Sat down carefully, as if sitting properly could reduce the smell.
He didn’t even speak at first. Just looked at me… then shook his head like someone who has lost faith in humanity.
“Umechelewa,” he said.
“Yes, sir.”
“Na umelewa.”
It wasn’t a question. It was a diagnosis.
Silence.
Even my excuses refused to show up.
“Explain.”
I cleared my throat. Big mistake.
The smell introduced itself properly.
“Sir… ni—” I paused. Thought deeply. Risked everything.
“…ni stress?”
He leaned back, removed his glasses slowly, and looked at me like I had just insulted the education system.
“Stress ya nini? Mwaka gani wewe?”
At that point, I realized something important:
Some lies are too ambitious.
I left that office with two things:
A punishment…
and a strong understanding that alcohol and school timetables are not friends.