A/N: As with some good bios I've read, this starts at a pivotal point. As I'll share at the end, I likely won't have time for more, so I call it done, but this is why it sounds like she's just starting. Then, there are other bits till the last part of the last chapter is the final bit of her "book."

Duffy is seen as a potential star, though different ages depending on the musical or movies. She is the loudest – thus very confident – and she quickly pretends to be Bert Healy, etc.. It makes sense in the musical that orphans help find some info; there's a logjam which can be more a collage of discoveries that don't have to happen all at once. I have her as the oldest here, as in the musical, for ease of storytelling.

But, if you want to picture Disney's 8YO Duffy, feel free! This should have been the '99 movie ending, anyway. It eliminates the oddity of Annie not recognizing Miss Hannigan or one of the girls not knowing how to cook. (Disney had to add something to make Miss Hannigan worse since she doesn't drink in the '99 movie, and playing "Mrs. Mudge" is Disney villain-esque.)

I'll mention at start of chapters any nod to another fic or version, but for instance, "Do You Want To Build A Snowman" pretty much incorporated the end of the '82 movie as Molly's bad dream & has a great dancing Grace) so if I mention a nightmare I'll just say to go there for more.

Finally, Mathair Chriona means "wise mother" in Irish. I thought combining that somewhat common term for "grandmother" in Ireland with "Nana," an American name for grandma, and having her called "Nona" seemed quite sensible.

Our Big Break – from Dancing Through Raindrops

Chapter One – "I Love You, Nona"

I sang and danced – and even taught - a captive audience for over a decade as a little girl. It's not the normal way a star is born. But, when you spend so much time dancing through raindrops like I have, you keep going no matter what.

My friend Annie, whom you'll meet, was writing her dad's biography, so I had to get mine out. I can always do another. Annie tells the truth in hers, don't get me wrong. Still, I wanted to give more detail from another orphan's perspective on my – and Annie's and the rest's – big break.

Annie admits now she was a bit silly. So, I can say this freely. I often thought: "Good grief, if she lives to be 100, she'll figure her parents are still around as the oldest couple in the world!"

We laugh about it now. But back then I didn't see her positive outlook as what kept Annie going; I saw it as her parents, who were only one example of that positivity. Another girl, Pepper, escaped with her story ideas, which became "Little Orphan Annie." But I had my dear, sweet Mathair Chriona, or – to me – simply "Nona."

I stretched as I stood up from a crouch, and then I did an impromptu pirouette. It was soon before Christmas, 1933; I was thirteen and a half.

"Someday, Nona," I whispered to myself, thinking of my dear, sweet grandmother – or was she my great-grandmother? It was a blur by my early teens. Anyway, the woman who raised me for over a year after my parents died, till arthritis had consumed her so much she could barely move.

July, the quiet orphan and our real caregiver, looked over at me and smiled. "I love how you're always moving when you can. I can't help but think Annie takes after you there." She had complimented me like Miss Kathy – a house mother who left, like everyone, because of the Depression – had taught us. She'd later change her name to Kathryn after Miss Kathy. For now, she simply wanted to make Miss Kathy proud, as she'd bawled her pledge to her over two years earlier when Miss Kathy left for good.

I smiled back and nodded. July was only a few months younger than me. She talked about faith at times; when she had the time, she liked to read that Gideon's New Testament they'd left. She struggled like all of us, but she's proof you don't have to be in church to know the Lord. Sure, she went forward and prayed once we got out, but you could tell her faith had grown after she bowed and prayed at her bedside maybe a year earlier and invited Jesus into her heart and life to save her from her sins. God is always waiting on someone to call on them, and there's no better time – even if you're stuck in an orphanage like ours was. He rewards those who diligently seek Him.

She could see how things could be blessings even through all the sorrow there, for one. I was only beginning to realize that – even though I didn't have her now – my short time with my Nona had been a great blessing.

Nona couldn't get down on the floor and play with me – she could barely get out of bed much by the end. Still she could praise my singing and dancing. My captive audience always gave me pointers as I tried as best as a little tot could to learn about rhythm, style, and grace of movement, as well as at least the beginning of tonal quality and such.

"It's early evening," Pepper, twelve, almost thirteen, chided me. "Miss Hannigan won't believe you if you say you're doing that to stay awake."

I enjoyed the good-natured teasing. "No, but she'll like that I won't step on her foot if I keep practicing," I returned playfully. And, it was true – I didn't always step on it. But I was nimble enough to make it look like an accident even if it was on purpose – as it was when I did it.

Yes, I was the loudest orphan, but I was accepted. They didn't know the reason – I don't think I even fully understood the feelings I'd get when I'd grab a broom and pretend to be Bert Healy, or I'd get the other girls going in a song. It was usually based off an old tune – like that "Bicycle Built for Two" tune which we changed into a math song that began "In addition one plus one equals two. We can add things, certain as I love you…" No matter what it was, though, I was still that little three-year-old who beamed inside, reveling in those misty, water-colored memories of her mostly bedridden Nona applauding her.

Everyone who becomes a star needs to get a break somewhere. As Pepper liked to say, "Ours is going to have to be a huge one!" It wouldn't just be getting seen by a talent scout. The place was pure drudgery, always cleaning or being forced to sew in an illegal sweatshop, it seemed. Although, we did get a little free time. And, one of the ways we kept our sanity while cleaning or sewing was singing. They were songs Miss Kathy - who Miss Hannigan had told the authorities was our "teacher" - wrote or we invented. We would probably have to create our own breaks.

"The last of our sewing orders,'" I repeated as I inspected the kitchen, which we had to make sure was spotless after supper each night. "What do you think that means?"

"It seems odd to me, too. Miss Hannigan usually has a lot before Christmas, and we still have a few days. Still, she did make us work all night, it seemed, after Annie ran away and even some after bedtime the next night. We might have finished them all. Plus, Miss Hannigan has to be worried," July speculated. Her quietness showed here as real thoughtfulness as she considered things. "If Annie tells on her, she can't have any evidence laying around that we've been sewing." She had come around to the idea that I'd had for a while – that the sewing operation was illegal.

Pepper scoffed. "If they don't think she's nuts 'cause she's gonna try to find her parents. After all these years? Good luck with that!" Her last letter had said she might finally find them, though they'd left her on our orphanage doorstep on December 31st, 1922! She'd been two months old, and was now eleven years old.

Pepper was cynical at times, but she was still my best friend. I had to agree; it didn't take much to support her on this, though I realize now that I did tease Annie more than I should have. I never thought about what they meant to her. It was easy for me to know my Nona was gone – she hadn't lived long, maybe a couple weeks, after I got put in the orphanage – and yet use my memories of singing and dancing for her to spur me on.

Still, while I didn't get into deeper meanings yet, I knew digging deeper was important. For instance, I probably realized what it took Pepper a few weeks of being out to recognize: Having to care for and look after Molly – who was six and had "only" been there for two year - had been important for all of us.

So, I tried to dig a little deeper. "Her letter said Mr. Warbucks would help her. Maybe he's just humoring her." Several agreed that that was possible. "I'm sure she's told him about us." We all cared about each other, even when we teased or fought with each other; we were just being like siblings then. And, we knew Annie would try to help anyone if she could. "Hey, let's clean Miss Hannigan's office; Bert Healy's on tonight," I announced to change the subject.

We inspected our cleaning; we'd done a good job. The fact that Miss Hannigan had grabbed a bottle – we all knew it wasn't really medicine – and claimed to be "retiring early" as we ate told us we didn't actually have to clean her office. Still, it gave us a good excuse.

"How's it gonna come up?" Pepper wanted to know, referring back to the sweatshop. "You know how Miss Hannigan is. She's sneaky, and she knows we've been taught to never tell a lie. There's lots of stuff people can ask without learning about how much we sew."

July was quiet, but Pepper could push her buttons. As Pepper went on, July stopped her. "Look, Pepper, I've prayed every day since that speech about 'the only thing we have to fear is fear itself.' I told you I've prayed that we get out of here by the end of the year. It's a weird way, but it could work. And, maybe it won't be about the sewing. I'm sure Mr. Warbucks knows Bert Healy." The youngest three, Tessie, Kate, and Molly, who had been talking among themselves, piped up when they heard his name. They enjoyed it when we listened to him.

Soon, Pepper and July were bickering, this time over whether Bert Healy would give us a shot. With Annie not there, I had to play peacemaker. I sighed; were we ever even going to hear him over their chatter. That was one of the highlights of our week each week.

As I tried to take charge, I pondered how far Annie had come. Annie took after me as a leader. She was feisty enough to threaten to make some of us sleep with our teeth outside our mouths at times – typical eleven-year-old bravado, from which we'd back down so as not to make things worse. That's why I figured Mr. Warbucks was humoring her by trying to find her parents; we did it, too. July did it herself, trying to get Annie to stop talking about them so much by explaining that it hurt us to think about her having parents when we didn't. And she didn't bring them up to us near as much after that.

I took charge, but with the calmer demeanor of a girl of thirteen and three quarters, one who felt like I knew everything, mostly because I sure knew a lot more than Miss Hannigan, who was a Tammany Hall hiree if there ever was one. She didn't even like orphans.

It was no wonder she was just letting us be, then. But, as much as she liked to insult us and try to tear us down, what would happen next would lead to something that really startled us!