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Less than two years after the war of the Bane, Lizzie reaches a point where school is more tedious than it should be. She knows almost all of the material already, yet her parents won't let her skip a grade because they don't want her to grow up too fast. (She wonders why they don't seem to understand that watching your brother prepare to die and having an entire civilization's lives depend on your skill at word puzzles tends to make one grow up too fast.)
The stars, something she's never had much interest in before, grab her interest then, just when she needs a little distraction to stay sane. She learns the patterns of their movements, and notices all the math they hold within their mysteries.
The stars reminds her of some of the smartest creatures she's ever known. (To be honest, most things remind her of the Nibblers, but the stars do most of all.) She finds herself sinking further into the stars, simply because she thinks of them, and she knows that they would love all she finds.
One night, late enough that it could be classified as morning, she sneaks into the laundry room, a note in hand. She slips it onto the grate, knowing that her note will get to it's destination. (She doesn't give a second glance to the scroll already there, no doubt part of the 'secret' correspondence her brother still has with the Queen of Regalia.)
Two days later, she wakes in the dead of night to find that a reply has been slipped under her door. (Also the work of her brother, as he is the only one to ever go anywhere near the laundry room, and even then only when her mother isn't looking.) It is everything she hoped, and she hurries to prepare herself for the night mentioned on the page.
The night comes, and she slips out of the apartment at 11:00 pm, her telescope and star charts stashed in the bag over her shoulder. (She also has a sharp knife from their kitchen, just incase she's attacked on the way to her destination. New York and the Underland aren't so different in some ways. One is never safe without a weapon.)
Her family sleeps peacefully, and she hopes she will not be caught. Her trip there is not as terrifying as it might have been years ago. (Although she must admit, at one point it was a little hard to breath. Just a little.) The rock at Central Park is easier to move than she remembers and out stream the reason she'd gone out so late at night.
The Nibblers surround her, and she spends hours teaching them the constellations she knows, and the paths they'll take across the sky, and how each star affects every other one. They listen raptly, wanting to know all they can about the bright lights in the sky that hold so much math to be learned. She and the Nibblers are one and the same when it comes to knowledge.
Eleven becomes twelve, and twelve becomes one, then one become two, and she has to pack up her equipment. She plans another nighttime star lesson with them, and then hurries home with a head full of star dust and mice.
The lessons become more and more common, and school becomes easier for her to handle. The Nibblers give her a distraction she desperately needs, and she gives them the stars of the Overland to understand. (Her parents find out, and almost confront her about it, but her father convinces her mother to watch one lesson first, and then they both decide that it's probably better for her to keep teaching because she looks so much more relaxed during the lessons.)