“Today, we’re talking about Star Beck,” says a deejay’s solemn, deep voice when the song ends. “Is she in rehab? Her mother and her publicist claim she’s sick and is confined to her hotel room, but an intern for her record label has said she’s been checked into a rehab center for alcohol addiction. What do you think? We’re taking your calls all morning. The number to call is 1-888-55-MAGIC. Sound off on the air about what’s really happened to Star Beck.”

There’s a pause, and I turn the radio up, listening intently.

“Go ahead, caller. You’re on the air,” says the deejay.

There’s a moment of heavy breathing on the other end; then a girl’s voice says. “Yes. I’m just really scared for her, that’s all. She’s my favorite singer. She’s so cool. I don’t know why she’d be an alcoholic. She’s probably just sick, you know?”

“Opinions seem to be divided,” the deejay says. There are a few seconds of silence.

“Plus,” the girl adds, “it would be wrong if she drank that much, you know?”

The deejay laughs. “Seems Star Beck isn’t setting a great example for her young fans. Then again, celebrities never do, do they?”

I feel terrible as the deejay takes his next call. I haven’t even thought about the message I’ll be sending to my fans by disappearing. I’ve only been focused on getting away from all the insanity and on finding my dad.

“Hello, caller, you’re on the air,” says the deejay, breaking into my thoughts.

“Hi,” says a male voice. “I’m Josh calling from St. Pete Beach and I just want to say that I’m worried about Star Beck,” he says. “Alcohol addiction is a serious thing.”

“Indeed it is,” the deejay says gravely. I feel even worse.

“My church group prayed for her last night,” Josh says.

The deejay chuckles. “Well, Josh, I’m sure that’ll help.

“And now, folks, it’s time for a commercial break.”

I didn’t realize that I’d be painted in the media as an alcoholic, of all things, if I vanished. I didn’t consider all the people who would be worrying about me, praying for me. I didn’t consider the girls who look at me as a role model. Suddenly, I feel compelled to explain myself. I pick up the phone in the motel room and am momentarily astonished to find that it actually works. I dial the radio station’s 1-888 number and listen to the phone ring and ring.

Just as I’m about to give up, there’s a click and I hear the deejay’s deep voice.

“Magic 101, thanks for calling,” he says. “Do you have a comment about Star Beck?”

“Uh, yes,” I say hesitantly.