A/N: I really hope this one is a little different than all the Swing Kids fics out there, but I'm not sure. I hope you like it!

Anukkah's name is said just like Hanukkah without the first "h."

My name is Anukkah. I come from a fairly normal-sized family. Me, my mother and father, my twin Luis, and my young sister Grace. We are Jewish both by blood and faith, which made the Nazi threat seem even nearer. I was fourteen years old at the time it all took place.

I guess I was young, but I was considered by my family and myself as an adult. But then… maybe we seemed older because the Nazis had somehow forced us to become more mature. To deal with things we would normally never have to deal with.

Anyway, my mother had been pestering Luis and me to get a job. Nothing too big, but enough to at least help buy supper. I didn't mind. I was actually eager to grow up and get a job of my own, and help my family.

We lived only three blocks away from the Café Bismark and I'd always wanted to visit it, but never had. I decided I could be a waitress or something there, or at least ask, so I went in and was blown away. I'd always assumed it was a more quiet, proper place, but when the doors opened, a catchy beat and lively crowd greeted me.

Overwhelmed and amazed, I stared at this place. This… this heaven. And accidentally bumped into someone.

"Hey," he said and turned to face me.

"I'm so sorry!" I said. "I wasn't looking and… I…"

The cute boy smiled. "It's OK. Don't worry about it. I'm Peter." He held out his hand for me to shake it.

I did. "Anna."

"Have you been here before, because I don't recognize you."

"Um, no. I'm here because I was wondering about a job."

"A job?" He seemed amused. "You can't really get much of a job here. Closest thing to that is playing in the band, and they get so little it isn't quite fit to be called "pay." They only get what the crowd'll give them."

I don't think he expected me to take his band suggestion seriously, but I did. "Hmm… the band?"

He chuckled. "Well, you kind of need an instrument…"

"I do," I said. "I mean, I have one. I play the clarinet."

"It's kind of hard to swing on the clarinet."

"If Goodman can do it, I can," I replied, referring to the best jazz musician in history.

"Are you comparing yourself to Benny Goodman?" he asked. "I don't think anyone is quite that good."

"Just the same, he isn't the only one."

"Maybe you have a point. But you'll have to try out."

I smiled. "I think you're lying."

"Why would I lie?"

"Because. I doubt that many people would want to make the music when they can dance to it."

"Speaking of which, do you want to?"

I was so shocked I almost fell over. "What?" I asked.

"Do you want to dance?"

"I can't really. I have trouble waltzing, much less swing dancing. I never have before. To be honest, I've never even really seen it until now."

"Too bad. It's really fun."

"Say, is this place legal?"

Peter hesitated. "Well, not according to Hitler…"

"In other words, no?"

"But according to him, being born to the wrong parents isn't legal. You think his laws actually apply? This is just dancing. People having a good time."

"Just the same, I'd rather not risk being arrested. Maybe I'll look somewhere else." I turned to go but Peter grabbed my arm.

"A minute ago you were determined to show me you could swing," he said. "Think, Anna. Will you ever get a job as good as this? It's so laid-back. So fun."

"Probably not."

"Try it once. Please?"

I sighed. "When are auditions?"

He smiled. "Right now, if you want."

"I need my clarinet."

"In that case, how about tomorrow? Around 8?"

"That sounds great," I replied.

"Good. Do you want to sit down and listen? Maybe eat a little something?"

I wanted to, but I was suddenly afraid. Afraid of Peter, maybe. That we was a total stranger and I had no reason to meet him anywhere, especially since he looked about 16, 17, and I was younger and much, much smaller. Afraid of my parents, what they would think if I was risking my life like this. But afraid mostly that the Nazis would come in and arrest me. That they would take me away and I'd never see my family again. My family that I loved so much.

"I'd like to – really – but I don't think I can."

"Why not?" he asked.

"I just… CAN'T!" I snapped, not liking the way he seemed to be pressing me. "I… have to go." Ashamed of how I'd spoken to him, I rushed home, my face in my hands.