"We’re in a Stellar Nursery!" Carlos shouted, punning immediately, "Talk about a 'starry' eyes view!"
Ms. Frizzle tapped her chalkboard, her earrings—miniature glowing nebulas—jingling with every movement. "Class, today we aren't just studying history," she beamed, her dress patterned with shifting tectonic plates. "We’re going to be part of it!"
The bus shrunken down until they were weaving between microscopic ice crystals and massive boulders of iron. They watched as gravity began to pull the swirling gas into a tight, hot ball. The bus groaned under the pressure, the metal glowing dull red.
"Class, look!" Ms. Frizzle pointed. "A protostar is forming!"
"With the Friz?" Dorothy Ann replied, clutching a thick encyclopedia. "Not a chance."