A Sweet Valley High for a new generation, a dishy, dazzling YA drama set against the backdrop of an elite charter school where stars are made—or fade.
Intrigued? Well read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Paula Chase’s Balancing Act, which is out now.
When Chyna gets a scholarship to the newest, most prestigious sports school in the city, it’s the best opportunity to do the gymnastics she loves. But between caring for her ailing mother and dealing with the elitist girls on her gymnastics team, she’s not sure she belongs.
Meanwhile, Jamaal is reeling from the death of his brother—who was also secretly Chyna’s boyfriend. Becoming star of the Power Panthers basketball team is his way to honor his brother’s memory and nothings going to stand in his way. Not even his health.
Filled with gossip, high-stakes sports drama, and tons of heart, Balancing Act is the first in a riveting new series about teens fighting for their dreams in a city where picking a side is no game.
From Balancing Act by Paula Chase. Copyright © 2025 by the author, and reprinted with permission of St. Martin’s Publishing Group.
CHYNA
Trampolines give life. They thrust you out of a chute and into air that not everyone gets to breathe. For a few seconds, gravity doesn’t mean anything. It’s not like flying.
It IS flying. And once you learn to fly, you want to do it all the time.
March is being fickle and can’t decide whether to change over to spring or hold on to winter with a grip. The wind is cold in my face as I bounce past the top of the tramp’s rails, nearly flying out of the net onto the scraggly grass of my tiny backyard. I push off, again and again, enjoying the milliseconds when my body leaves the earth, and the wind gets caught in the puff of my hair. My calves tense hard as rocks as I bounce off my toes high, high, higher until there’s enough space beneath me to curl my knees to my chest and spin once.
Sitting in the corner of the trampoline, watching, Jacque’s eyes ping-pong with my body. Watching him watch me gives me chills. I’m not sure if it’s because he’s my best friend’s brother
and we haven’t told Jamaal about us yet or because winter is wintering.
“Go for two,” he says.
“It’s not enough space for two tucks,” I say even as I calculate how true that is. If Jacque thinks I can do it, I probably can. He says watching me bounce makes him feel free. Still, the trampoline is old. It creaks like its joints need to be oiled. If I thought too hard about it holding my weight, I wouldn’t even do one tuck. But being on the tramp isn’t about thinking. It’s about doing. Flying. Living.
Even through the darkness I see the outline of Jacque’s head shake in disappointment. “Play to win or don’t play,” he dares me. Before I can back out, my body ignores my mind and revolves once then twice like it was waiting for the right moment.
He grins, the proud coach, teeth lighting my way to him. I plop down, heart racing. “Geezus, boy. Are you trying to kill me?”
“Nope. Just getting you ready to run with the A-Team.”
The A-Team.
The Heights gymnastics team. I’m still getting used to being connected to something that has the entire community talking. Divided. But talking.
Everything I know, I learned from Soar summer camp and testing flips on this rickety tramp. I’m still wondering how I got an invitation to apply to the school. I can’t say that to Jacque. He’ll say I worry too much. But sometimes worrying is all I have. Joining the team is either going to be a dream come true or a nightmare. Being part of these types of change-the-world places always is one or the other. It’s never something in the middle because it’s easy to want to change things. It’s having to keep that energy up day after day that starts to mess with the people who are supposedly changed.
In a way, I figure the Heights is going to be like all the other programs claiming to offer golden opportunities to “the youth”—like we’re a species that can be corralled, tagged, and studied—before sputtering out of gas.
There’s:
F.A.L.L. into Success, because playing off the Diamond Falls name shows you’re caring and witty. Forging A Legacy of Learning encouraged young people to get interested in teaching as a
career. That went about as well as you think it did.
Shiny Diamonds, “polishing our youth for the future.”
The Gem Project, “mining our communities for future jewels.”
Hell, even Soar, aka, broke kids gymnastics camp, played the game by hyping up that it “fosters confidence building and self-esteem development through the rigors of tumbling.” I’ll admit
that if you ignore the bad food and bug-infested cabins, they definitely weren’t my worst two weeks of summer the last three years.
I can go on. They all start with a bang, but eventually the people giving the money for this stuff would rather focus on the next new promise rather than admit nobody ever delivered on
the original one.
But the Heights feels different.
A sliver of excitement tap-dances in my heart. None of the other programs had the city’s biggest corporations promising the school money and internships for students. No other school in the city had media partners, basically a slick way of saying that Channel 11 and 90.5 Da City have to talk good about the Heights. Literally they are getting paid, by the school, to say good things.
Aunt Tam said she has no idea how that arrangement is legal.
“I thought the news was impartial,” she’d said to Momma when we were reading the thick admissions packet that covered everything from mandatory special events to the five clauses that
prohibit any of the athletes from participating in activities that might cause them injury.
Momma had swiped away a tear, put on her big sister’s voice, and tried to reprimand. “Tam, don’t overanalyze this. Let’s just celebrate Chyna getting in. This is huge for her.”
I could tell Aunt Tam wanted to argue. That’s her first, second, and only gear. Also, she doesn’t trust anybody. Momma is the opposite. I’m stuck somewhere in the middle. If the Heights ends up like the other feed-the-needy programs, I won’t be surprised. But I’ll be graduated by then, so it’ll be somebody else’s problem to scam proof it. For now, the expectations and the cold make me shudder. Jacque pulls me to him. My warm lips cover his cold ones.
“What if the Soar coaches and Dr. Walker are wrong about me?” I whisper, unable to fight my worry.
He nibbles at my lips. “They not. You the best gymnast nobody know about. I’ve seen the videos. You as good as that Alicia girl.”
Jacque never says something just to be saying it. But that Alicia girl is Alicia Swanson, daughter of 90.5’s Black Swan and Evening Gem’s Rodecia Taylor and more importantly, the reigning Blue Diamond champion. Self-proclaimed Gymnast chick since I was old enough to walk—according to her Chatter bio.
It sounds crazy to say I’m as good as her, no matter if Hot Lipz says I’m the Heights’ number one gymnastics prospect. Honestly, especially if Hot Lipz is the main one saying it.
