"...and that's how you calculate the yield of a reaction. Any questions?" Henrik asked his class. There were only around fifteen students, aged around sixteen or seventeen. In fact, there were only around one hundred and fifty students in the entire school; a specialist science school in the middle of nowhere with a small catchment area wasn't going to be the biggest. He liked how small the school was. It felt more personal.

Before any hands were raised, the door opened and the one-woman maths department had entered, hair as dishevelled as it was yesterday, arms full of workbooks and a vaguely inconvenienced look in her eyes.

"Hey, did you need anything?" He called out. His students swivelled around in their seats.

"It's 10 am. Your class ends now. I need to set up."

"But I'm not done yet."

"Miss Norén has a thing about punctuality." The student closest to the front mouthed. Henrik nodded his thanks.

"Alright, guys, hand in your books, I'll mark them for you tonight," he sighed, "I'll finish up sooner next time, okay?" He turned to Saga.

"Yep." She unplugged his laptop cable.

They really needed to install another plug socket.

Saga was surrounded by exercise books. She had taught three classes already today, and, as always, she would stay in the classroom marking until they were done. To Henrik, it looked like a small fort, the way the books were stacked in piles around her workspace.

"Hey, Saga? Do you want a coffee or anything? I mean, I'm staying behind to mark too and, um, do you need anything?"

"No." She didn't look up from her work. Her pen scratched a flurry of red inked ticks onto the page, and she reached for the next book.

"Okay." He sat down and sized up his considerably smaller pile of exercise books.

It was quiet outside.

"So, Saga, why did you start teaching?"

Polite small talk. Damn.

"I like maths."

"That's all?"

"It gives me something to do."

"Fair enough. Man, I've been here for like an hour, and I still have 12 books."

"Twelve is the smallest number with exactly six divisors." She finished another book.

"Wow, okay Wikipedia," he shifted slightly, "Saga, today one of my students asked if I was replacing Martin. Yesterday someone, John in IT, asked the same thing, but no one seems to want to tell me what happened exactly."

"Why do you want to know?"

"I'm just curious."

She began to pack away her things.

"Okay, I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then." Henrik mumbled as she left without a word.

The internet sure was a wonderful resource. Henrik sat at his laptop at home and typed the school name into Google.

The first result of the 'news' section was a report on last year's exam results, featuring a photo of six happy looking students holding their results letters, and Saga positioned in the middle of the group, looking at something out of shot with a bored expression.

"Six of the students of Saga Norén's (centre) class scored in the top 1% of the entire country." Read the caption.

Henrik smiled, and returned to the search.

Pictures of the physics trip to CERN in Switzerland. Pictures of graduation. A formal picture of the staff from last year... wait. There was a face Henrik recognised, and not someone he had met yesterday.

First on the left, second row: Martin Rohde.

They continued their routine of marking in silence for another few days before Henrik finally brought the subject up again.

"Saga, I did a bit of research the other day, about Martin, since no one was telling me what happened," Saga stiffened as he said this, "and I recognised him. He used to work at my old school. He was good.

"I found an article that said he had retired, but if he had just retired then someone would have just said. No one's telling me what happened, and that means it was something bad."

Saga's hand twitched. Her handwriting trailed off.

"Martin did something wrong. And I saw, and I reported him," she put the lid on her pen, "and now he's gone."