AN: Hey Everyone! First off i know everyone is confused and probably shocked at me uploading a new story. I know i havent updated "Happy freakin 16th to me" in forever! But im just not motivated..i recently found my old favorite show Friday Noght Lights and all of its seasons and fell in love again! I love this show soo much and i just want to share this with you all and put a personal spin on it. I got a little inspiration fron another author on here but she doesnt want to be mentioned so here goes! Comment ! Let me know if i should continue! I will try my best to continue my other story also..Thanks!

Chapter 1: Welcome to Dillon

Dillon Texas.. the middle of freaking nowhere. When my father told me that we`d be moving there, away from the "distractions" of the city, i nearly shot him. We always lived near a city, perfectly content to move to a new one. Detroit, Boston, New York, Seattle and most recently LA. Our family lived all over the country. Was i being punished? I know that i got arrested a few times but a little rural town in Texas? What could my father be thinking? Yes, i understand his empire finally stabilized but no, i didn't comprehend why he wanted to sit back and watch it all from Dillon Texas.

The minute i walked into the wretched school they call Dillon High i knew my father lost his mind. Even though it was the middle of fall, everyone still wore bright colors, and oh God, football jerseys. I gripped my Dolce & Gabbana oversized sunglasses and pushed them back over my perfectly highlighted auburn waves. I Clearly missed some fashion memo about small towns in Texas because i look like im going to Fashion Week in New York compaired to these kids. Getting ready this morning i had to be sexy. I`ll knock all of these little cowboys on their toes. I decided on my tight black body con skirt that hugged my hips to perfection with a small pink ruffled scoop tank that showed just the right amount of cleveage and topped it off with my favorite leather jacket and black suede Chanel booties. Maybe i was doing too much but what the hell im hot! Poor boys of Dillon High.

Its my senior year and i had to graduate from this hell hole? I bet they didn`t even offer AP Calculus let alone AP Studio Art i thought as i walked throught the halls looking for my locker. As i walked down the halls i notice all the stares from the students. Some where oogling boys and others were eye rolling girls. I knew this day would get easier and i was for damn sure wouldn't go unnoticed my first day at Dillon High.

One football player stepped in my way and continued to block it as i crooked my perfectly arched eyebrow at him. The number on his jersey read 20. He was pretty hot..maybe ill give him the classic Cami welcome.

"Hey hey hey, where you goin'? The Smash makes it his job to know all the lovely ladies at Dillon High and I certainly haven't see your fine..." just then two more football players joined him in this tirade. "Who do we have here Smash?" a taller boy stood with the prettiest blue eyes you`d ever see, his jersey read 88. The other player seemed to just stand there and let his eyes roam over my body, his jersey read 44. Obviously they did not know what they were getting them selves into here. "Hi, im Camille, but you can call me cami" i winked and gave my smile that i knew would make their knees weak. Number 20 stuck out his hand. "Well im smash the best running back in Texas and these two here are my boys Hastings and Luke. I shook his hand and nodded to the other boys. "Nice to meet you Smash, Hastings,and Luke. Hope to see you boys around." i said as i smiled and walked around them to hopefully finally find my locker within the next 10 minutes.

The guys here are actually cute..wow who knew? Things could go either way at Dillon High; i always played the rebel ,popular chick or the bad ass before which caused me to be expelled from so if things went badly the first day at Dillon High the decision would be made for me.
I continued down the halls and wondered if i needed a game plan for handling a high school like this. All the other schools i figured out pretty easily. Rebel in Detroit, New York, Seattle. Popular in Boston, and LA. I still received e-mails from everywhere but my hometown of Baltimore, which i didn't remember much of anyways. Where ever Camille Phillips knew how to make friends and keep them for life...especially the boys.

Only here it almost seemed like i didn't have a choice. I was going to rule this school. Even though the fashion changed down here i dont want to seem too stuck-up or too rich for everyone. I feel completely annoyed that Dillon Texas messed up my pattern. I mean by now i wouldve had every single teenage boy here eating from the palm of my hands and a posey of bitchy cheerleaders following my every move.

Finally, i reached my locker. I open my hand and stared at the numbers written in black eyeliner: 37-7-25. I stared at the palm of my left hand as i twisted the knob. Come on, come on... the locker popped open with a click as i lifted myr finger under the plastic mechanism. With just a hint of pressure from my finger it swings the vented metal door open to reveal... nothing. No neon paint marks, no band stickers, no crumpled pictures, nothing. Just a old, empty locker. Taking my oversized Chanel bag off my shoulder, I dig into it for my lunch packed in a clear plastic container filled with organic food. I bet the nearest organic shop was in San Antonio or something. Then a bell rang that was highly annoying and the other students started to move to class. I took my precious time. After all, as the new girl i planned on using that for an excuse why i would waltz in late to economics, looking all confused and rushed. That gag worked every time, so i just reached into the bottom of my bag and pulled out my precious little shoebox of photographs, magnets and everything i needed to bring some life into this hideous locker. With Cierra in Detroit, a picture taken on the last day of school in our baggy black pants and red tank tops making an 'I dont give a fuck pose'. I tagged that up with a magnet. Next the smiles of me, Kendra and Lauren, all in brightly colored bathing suits in Cabo that summer, tanned and pretty much wasted. I chuckled to myself as i tagged that one up under the first picture, not too different from the first. About to put up the High Fashion clothed gang from New York in time square doing our best 'Sex in the City' pose just when i assume a teacher with long strawberry blond hair seemed to have spotted me and walked towards me with a purpose. Damn, busted.

"Honey are you lost or are you just blatantly ignoring this school's rules on getting to class on time?" The woman stood with her arms crossed over her chest and a no non-sense look formed on her face. Im gonna have to come up with something really good, like a sob story or something to cover my butt i couldnt ruin my first day. With a quick, shocked, doe eyed expression, I dropped my lower lip into a surprised, unwary position and made sure my eyes turned wide and innocent. I attended an arts school in New York. I know i can pull the wool over the eyes of some simple southern teacher. I clutched the precious shoebox to my chest, making clear effort to keep my box safe.

"I'm sorry I'm new here... I just couldn't bear getting through the school day without putting up the pictures of my friends from home..." i said, with my voice trailing off with emotion. I tried to give the teacher enough emotion to actually get off the hook and the teacher seemed to buy it. Teachers had the same mentality everywhere. They remained predictable, even in this crazy little town called Dillon. Im sure they gossiped about her new house being built as if the most exciting thing other than football sat down the street in the form of a southwestern style mansion. Daddy promised this house would come to symbolize home. We all doubted that one.

"Let me see your schedule while you put the rest of your pictures up. I'll show you the way to class." she said flipping her hair back. I dug out the envelope with my schedule inside to hand it to the teacher. I told daddy to try and make it just like my senior schedule in LA. One glance this morning told me i had economics first, and economics hadn't been anywhere on my schedule back in LA. I couldn't bring myself to look at the rest of the schedule to see if i could continue with AP Studio art. Im sure ill ditch the others anyone. Pulling the last three pictures from my little shoebox, I hung them neatly on the board and sighed. Relaxed and chilling in front of the Liberty Bell in Philly with James and Emily, at a Kanye West concert in Seattle with Darien and Chris, and most recently shopping in LA with Brittney, Quin, and Jasmine. My life so far, leaving every place i went to. I had hoped that they would remain in LA after i started my second year there, but as usual my dad had other plans.

"Economics with Mrs Wilson, should be this way," the teacher said, pointing. "I'm Mrs. Taylor, the school guidance counselor by the way. You're... Camille Riley". Mrs. Taylor held the paper back out to me. I nodded with a slight smile of approval to let her know the answer to her question, but said nothing in return. The guidance counselor gave me a funny look and started down the hall. After walking past decorated bulletin boards that i remembered from middle schools at her previous home and big poster projects, we stopped in front of the uniform blue doorways to what i assumed contained Economics 101.

"Um, thanks for your help " i said, and pressed down on the gold handle.

Cracking the door open just a little, i could tell that the econ class had not commenced yet. Not that it really mattered- i would prefer to think that sketching out ideas for makeup work in AP Studio Art back home would benefit me more than paying attention in this worthless class. Dear old Dad never understood my artistic tendencies in terms of a career. The cackling of my new classmates told me they didn't take this class too seriously either. I caught snippets of gossip through the crack.

"Dude, did you see how..." "So I told him, if he ever even looks at her again..." "Who do she think she is?...shes" "Did you see that new girl? What is she,Paris Hilton or something?"

Here goes nothing.. I entered the class, head held high. The economics teacher, a short, slim woman with long thin blonde hair and too thick glasses emphasizing her buggy eyes which gave me a stern, somewhat puzzled look stood in the front of the classroom. The desks appeared to exist in the same spots since 1970, mint green chairs and old wooden desks covered in graffiti. The small woman stared straight at me, waiting for an explanation of the rude interruption into class just as she wanted to commence with her lecture.

"Well young lady, are you lost?" she asked, still staring at me with bug eyes, speaking in a slow, patient drawl despite her clear impatience. The class fell mostly silent; a whisper passed between two girls in the back followed by a suppressed giggle from the same one who called me Paris Hilton. Apparently Daddy's money didn't make much of an impression there, though clearly the girls around here knew next to nothing about designer clothes.I reached up and touched my D&G sunglasses right near the logo, looked pointedly at the giggling girls, and then returned my gaze to...i glanced at my yellow paper schedule. Mrs. Wilson. Figures that all of the teachers in this school would have common predictable names. How boring.

"Well Mrs. Wilson if you really must now I'm new. I`m Camille Riley." i said, my eyes looking at the girls rather than Mrs. Wilson. "But if you don't mind I'll just take a seat in the back of class and you can return to lecturing." I watched the smile build on Mrs. Wilson's face at my ever so clever introduction.I kept a tight grip on my Chanel handbag and took a seat in the back of the room, the only one open in the whole room. As i dug out my iPhone with one hand, I pushed my hair from my eyes with the other. Though the class still seemed slightly shocked, I could tell that they had begun to judge me for themselves if they hadn't already done so from my interactions with "Smash"and the other guys a tap on my shoulder brought my attention to the person to my right. Ugh. What now?

"You dropped this out of your bag" a charming face connected to a hand that held out my white earbuds I looked up to match the face to this perfect voice. Well if it isnt Hastings, number 88..Gosh hes so gorgeous! I scored big time with this seat! I reached out so he could drop the earbuds in my hand. He smiled his perfect smilend dropped them as hazel eyes met with his blue ones and i swear i heard my heart beating through my chest.

"Thanks 88" i said with a smirk and turned away continuing having my iphone as my main priority. I emediately text my best friend Kendra from LA. * I HATE THIS TOWN ! BUT PLENTY OF EYECANDY! ;)* I texted at a lightening speed and couldnt wait to see her reply. I glanced at the time..10:15. Ughh.. as i wait on Kendra`s reply, out of the corner of my eye i see i tiny folded piece of paper on the side of my desk. As i reach for it i sneak a peek at Mr.88, he`s soo guilty. Ihavent gotten a note like this since middle school by a nerd who asked me if i wanted to go out for ice cream. I rolled my eyes at that memory.I open up the note to see reasonable handwritting..hmm impressive. It Read:

Sorry we were`nt properly introduced earlier but if you consider joining me and my friends at lunch I`ll make it up to you.
-88

He is so cute. How can i turn him down? What the hell, guess im eating with the jocks today. So i scribble a simple *Sure* and handed it back to him the way he should have. in his hands. As i turned back around the girls kept looking back at me, shooting nasty stares in my direction. Really? are we going to start this? I sighed and turned my attention back to my phone. Still no reply... Mrs. Wilson turned around to stare at me again. Well, that's what Daddy got for making me take economics instead of an art course. He still didn't comprehend why i spent hours on portfolios for arts or fashion schools instead of essays for liberal arts or business schools. My dad just didn't get that his little girl didn't want to end up in the corporate world with his destruction of family values and his tossing of money at around like it makes everything all better. Oh, Daddy's pockets would hurt this weekend, but he still wouldn't get it. My attention returned to the clock. When is this class over?

Atleast today isnt as bad as i thought it would be. Suddently my wish is answerd and the bell rings. Luckily for me the classes seemed to go by pretty quickly here at Dillon High with no block scheduling. "I'll see you at lunch," 88 said, grabbing his backpack and slinging it around his shoulder while walking backwards towards the door, "noon sharp. We sit at the corner table." Gathering up my things, I made my way to the door, following Hastings who had turned around very gracefully for a football player, or so i thought. As I made my way out the door and walked right into yet another football player, knocking the books out of his hands.

"Oh, oh I'm sorry I didn't see you there," the football player said stammering in a voice deeper than I expected, reaching down to pick up his books from the floor. Even though this goes against every bit of my being I knelt down in my skirt to help him out. After all it was pretty much my fault. His blue eyes seemed to pause on her and then recognize her with embarrassment. "Oh no, you're not the new girl from Los Angeles are you? I am so sorry I was running late this mornin because Gramma, she was wanderin again and I missed a ride with Land- I, I'm sorry I was supposed to welcome you to the school help you get used to it and everything. I'm Matt Saracen," he said, and stood up to hold out his hand to me, dropping yet another book in the process. I picked it up on my way up and then took his hand to shake it. This awkward football player clearly assigned to me because he sat on the bench all practice with nothing else to do would have to help me integrate into daily life at Dillon High. Daily life at Dillon High- what a great phrase. Every one of my movements gracefully contradicted the clumsiness of this boy who stood in front of me with the number 7 on his jersey. He could not be older than 16, kind of slim...must be the punter.

"I'm Cami," i said, introducing myself to the poor boy who hadn't even had the time to remember my name. The girl from Los Angeleez was I? Well they never pronounced it that way at home that's for sure. I thought i heard a whistle from down the hall and whirled to face the direction of the noise. Both the awkward Matt Saracen and i watched some players parade down the hall obviously part of the starting line-up. They stopped to exchange 'man hugs' with Smash before continuing on their way. The four boys made a formidable force, probably thinking just how cool they must appear to everyone else. Maybe trying to impress the Me. Either way, they came to a stop near our location.

"Heeeyyyyy QB1, what's going on man? You ready for tonight's game?" Saracen seemed to take on a new air of confidence as he fist pumped all the guys who walked past, not dropping a single book in the process. Even his posture seemed straighter. Incredible. Hey wait, what did QB1 mean anyways? I tried to rack my brain for the little high school football knowledge i had. 11 players on each side, using a oval-shaped ball that used to be made of pigskin, goal posts at each end allowed for scoring of extra points and the only actual use of the feet really in the game... passes thrown by a central player, known as the quarterback. QB. QB1 equaled first string quarterback? Holy Shit! Guess hes not the punter after all. He must be pretty good. Either way, i would have an interesting few weeks at Dillon High. And i knew it.