Galinda sighed and glanced at the clock for what seemed like the thousandth time. Still only ten past? That couldn't be right, perhaps the clock had stopped working. But no- there, eleven past. Time hadn't stopped after all.

She fidgeted a little, glancing around for something to amuse herself with, finally twisting around to see Fiyero and Elphaba, both of whom sat in the row behind her. Elphie was, of course, listening to the professor with rapt attention and diligently taking notes. Galinda rolled her eyes and turned to Fiyero, praying he'd be doing something more interesting. But no, he was writing furiously too—something which struck the blonde as odd. Ah, there—that was more like it, she thought, as he folded up the paper he'd been writing on. A note! For her, perhaps? But no such luck. Galinda's eyes widened as Fiyero took the folded note and nudged it down to none other than Elphaba.

Galinda turned back around and fumed—those two were barely even friends with each other, and here they were passing notes to one another and ignoring her! A moment later, though, she felt a slip of paper pressed to her shoulder, and she reached back as if to scratch an itch and took it.

You look flustered, my sweet. What's wrong? –E.

The blonde scowled. What was wrong? She was exquisitely bored and they were ignoring her, that's what was wrong. She scribbled as much in a reply and snuck it back to Elphaba, then turned back to the front of the room and pouted.

… until another note landed beside her.

Actually, my sweet, we're bored too, because although Ozian politics can be fascinating, this old Bat is a dreadful professor. As a result, we're carrying on our own discussion regarding the situation in Munchkinland. We didn't think you'd want to be involved, but perhaps we've misread your interest. Care to contribute?

Galinda shook her head. She should have known that Elphaba would be doing work. And what on earth had she done to get Fiyero, of all people, to think? Her pride, however, required her to respond, so she scrawled a quick answer involving the basics of her father's most frequently muttered opinions on the Munchkinland drought, then gave the note back. Their slight-of-hand discussion lasted the remainder of the class, and resulted in the first political science lesson during which Miss Galinda Upland voluntarily and actively learned something. What she didn't learn about was the note that Elphaba slipped into Fiyero's hand on their way out of the classroom.

Thanks for helping with my little experiment—told you I could get her to think with a little help!