But then he didn't show up for tryouts.

"Where the hell is Santiago Miranda?" my dad screamed at the forty strong boys that showed up, and me. Although he seemed determined not to acknowledge my presence next to him. Not nice.

A few kids were frowning, some didn't seem to care much for worrying about strong competition. Some were gleeful. Fucking McCann.

"He'll show up," I said firmly. My dad pursed his lips in a way that made him look like the ginger version of the sad emoticon.

After that conversation Santi and I had on Monday, I decided I'd employ my failed strategy for dad on him. I harassed him. 24/7. By text, phone calls, emails, in person. Wednesday night at 3am I sneaked into his room and jumped on him while he was asleep. We wrestled for a moment and while he was half asleep and stunned he put me in a painful headlock, so I bit his hand hard. He'd screamed and let me go. His parents showed up and saw the earthquake-like damage we'd caused in a few seconds, and I politely let them know that their son did not want to try out for the baseball team this year.

Barbara, his mom, gasped and covered her mouth with her hands to stifle a sob. Domingo had looked crushed. It had not been at all the reaction I'd had expected. I thought they'd get pissed and maybe even join me in the manhandling. They said something quick in Spanish and left. I sat on the corner of Santi's bed, dreading him all of a sudden.

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, you better be. Get out."

He went back under the covers and shoved me out of the bed with his feet. I stood there, looking at his form in the dark and how it dwarfed the bed.

"You need a king size bed, by the way."

"Get out."

I did get out, but I did not stop my relentless attack. By Thursday I had recruited half of the old baseball squad and they were just as enthusiastic about the quest. Chris had to be the worst/best. Every second we were not in class, he'd hang off of Santi's shoulders whispering threats in his ears about all the bodily damage they'd do to him if he didn't try out. Anthony was pretty good, too. He was born with natural puppy eyes that worked on anything with human chromosomes, and spent the whole day using them to guilt trip young Miranda. To our surprise, even some of the cheerleaders had joined in the efforts.

Thursday afternoon, just before last period, we were all with Santiago when one of them approached him. I'd seen her around, a pretty sophomore that looked like a college girl through the power of makeup. She sauntered over, flashing a smile that even I could tell sent all the boys' blood to a boil, and stopped right in front of him.

"Hi, Santiago."

She pronounced his name like it was caramel rolling down her throat. If it were any other boy, he'd have barked and obeyed the next command at the ready. Instead, one of Santi's eyebrows went up.

"I just wanted to wish you good luck on the tryouts tonight."

She winked and turned around in a practiced way, as if it were part of a cheer routine. My eyes went down her shape and I had to admire all the effort she put in it. You won't look that good just on genes alone.

The boys lost it then. I think Anthony actually melted because she'd made him so hot.

Santiago shut his locker and headed to class without a word.

Three other boys, Ellen and I exchanged glances.

"He sure is a tough crowd," my best friend said.

I looked out at the forty some boys in front of me then with my arms folded. Some of them were good, really good, but nowhere near half of a Miranda. We had to get him on the team if we wanted to stand a chance this year. Not to mention that the world had to see more of him.

"Alright," my dad shouted with a hearty clap. "Let's begin."

"Wait," I cut in. "Just wait a few more minutes."

He turned to me. 3:2. I could tell he wanted to scream at me, but not in front of everybody. "I can't wait for one guy, honey bunny."

My jaw slackened at the low blow. It sent the squad into howls of laughter. This was so not the kind of start I intended to have.

"Damn it, dad. Stop it!"

"I tell you what," he said with a sigh. "I'll give you until the end of practice to get him here. I want him in the team as much as you do, trust me, but I have to be fair to everybody."

I nodded. Wise man.

"We have a deal, then. I get you Santiago and you get me in the team."

He did a double take. "I can't do that."

I rolled my eyes. "Not in the team, of course. But as staff, kind of thing."

"Peyton..."

I stuck my hand out and looked at him pointedly. He grabbed his whistle instead and told them all what the first drill would be. Once that was done and he saw that I still held my hand out for him to shake, he instead grabbed it in both of his and said, "Go get Santiago and we'll talk."

Good enough. I turned around and pulled out my cellphone. Said boy didn't pick up.

"Of course. Of damn fucking course."

My future hinged on him and he didn't realize it. Stupid Santiago.

I called Ellen and asked her if she'd seen him around as I walked around the school building and to the front. If his bike wasn't there, then finding him and getting him into the field on time before tryouts were over would be near impossible.

She hadn't seen him, but his bike was parked out front.

"Okay," I told her. "He's in the building and you need to help me find him."

She sounded panicked. "But Pey, I'm in the middle of debate club!"

I screamed at the phone. "Then get the whole freaking debate club to look for him!"

There was a pause on the other side but finally she sighed. "I'll see what I can do."

We hung up and I racked my brain for where he might be. All his friends were in the diamond right now, so who else could he possibly be hanging out with? I thought of calling his parents, in case they'd know something, but I didn't want to interrupt them from work and risk freaking them out for real. I tried calling him again, but it went to voice mail right away.

I would kill him when I found him. But only after he got in the team.

I ruled out the areas in school that were not for seniors, because I had to start somewhere, somehow. I went classroom to classroom and even looked into the storage rooms. There were two bathrooms that I could also try; the first one was empty, but there was a guy in the second one. I just asked him if he'd seen Santiago Miranda and he screamed no at me, with his back firmly turned to me.

I stopped in the middle of the hallway, wondering where else I could try. I looked in the cafeteria next, but it was empty. And the auditorium was busy with the drama kids rehearsing. No Santiago to be found.

"Should I try the rest of the school?" I asked myself. But then I saw the time on my phone and I felt a cold rush of panic wash me over. There wasn't much time left. Dad usually tried to keep tryouts to maximum an hour and a half, and it'd already been one hour. "Shit, shit."

My phone buzzed then. I swiped the green button before even seeing who was calling. "Santiago?" I asked.

"No, it's me," Ellen said. "I did find him, though."

"Blessed be thou!"

"Um." She sounded weird. I shut up. "Come to the main entrance to the football field."

I turned my body around toward the nearest exit but stopped. "Don't tell me he's trying out for the football team?"

"No, just come."

Okay, something was up. I ran at full speed. Each scenario running through my head was worse. Maybe he'd wanted to try out for the football team but had had an accident. What if he was lying bloody at the bottom of the bleachers? Or what if he was being bullied? Although to be fair, who'd be so dumb as to bully someone that big?

I made it out into the open air and kept running. I passed the baseball field and gritted my teeth. He made me miss out on the tryouts. I had wanted to make notes and calculate statistics on what I saw, because my dad would not be able to say no if I gave him a kickass analysis on the prospective players. He'd have had to involve me in the decision making of who got chosen for varsity, JV or not at all. Instead, here I was, chasing after the most stubborn and reluctant boy in the school.

Ellen's small figure remained huddled by the entrance of the bleachers. She was looking out so intently that she didn't feel me coming behind her and jumped once she saw me.

"Goddamn, Peyton."

"My words exactly." Then I peered around her at what had her transfixed. It was Santiago and the cheerleader from earlier. Entangled in each other. My jaw dropped. "What the hell?"

"I know... All yours."

She ran away. Literally, she ran away. I only saw Ellen run when forced to in gym class, or that one time we thought we saw Shawn Mendes in Disneyland but it turned out to be a really close lookalike.

I turned back at the spectacle. They pulled apart and laughed at something. I didn't even know he knew how to flirt. Let alone that he could kiss like that. He hadn't shown any interest a few hours back when she came up to him. What the hell?

"What the hell?" I repeated the question once I reached them. The girl had the decency of looking embarrassed at being found with her tongue down some guy's throat.

"Oh my god, I didn't know you were his girlfriend. I'm so sorry!"

None of us were expecting that. Santiago and I screamed at the same time, "No!"

This seemed to confuse her even further. She stood up from his lap, adjusted her t-shirt and hair and smiled at him. "Guess I'll see you around, then."

He watched her go with eyes of a predator. I shook my head to myself. Who was this guy and what did he do with Santiago?

I found my voice and asked him, "What do you think you're doing?"

He groaned and ran his hands over his face and through his hair. "I was making out with a hot girl until you interrupted and now I'm very frustrated, that's what I'm doing."

I didn't know how to answer that and I think I spluttered for a bit, something I don't normally do. I folded my arms and tried to channel my sternest self. "The real question is, why are you here and not there?" I jerked my chin toward the diamond field behind him.

He squinted up at me. "Because being here was way more fun?"

I grunted. "God, you're so frustrating."

"No, what's frustrating is you," he said, standing up so he could tower over me. But I climbed onto the next step and then the next until we were at eye level. His green eyes roamed over my face. "What's frustrating is that you won't leave me alone. Don't you understand? I don't want to play ball anymore. I don't care about it, I never have. Not like you and..."

"Like me and Seb."

We paused, weighed down by those words.

"That's not true," I said. I shook my head. "That's not true, Santi. You love baseball just as much as we did, as I do. It's in your veins." I grabbed his hands and ran my thumbs over the calluses on his palms. "It's in your body, it's in who you are." He pulled his hands out of mine and I looked up at him. "Do you feel as if a limb was cut off?"

I watched his Adam's apple bob up and down and I looked back up. His lips were swollen and moist from the kissing, and I focused on his eyes instead.

"That's how I feel," I confessed to him. "That's how I've felt for a year, and he wasn't even my own flesh and blood. But here's the thing, Santiago. You have all of your limbs; you're here, healthy and alive. You've spent a year walking through your life as if you were dead, and if Seb were here to see that he'd be giving you the beat down you deserve."

He avoided my eyes then, so I grabbed his head and turned it to face me again. I smushed his cheeks together and leaned closer.

"Don't waste your life. If not for your sake, for his. Use your body. Do what you know best and love."

His eyes narrowed. "Something I love to do with my body, huh?"

I let his face go so I could feed him the knuckle sandwich directly to his solar plexus. It was strong enough to make him lose his breath. Seb's punch would have been so much worse.

"Shut up." I smirked as he looked up at me. "But it does involve a bat, yes."

He rolled his eyes. "Will you leave me alone if I go try out?"

"Absolutely."

Santiago stretched to his full length and took a deep breath, the same way a person does when he's about to jump into deep waters. "Fine."