The McCoy Game

Ma steers the truck off the dirt road, parking in a grassy field. She takes a look at Uncle Ray’s cherry-red Corvette up ahead and rolls her eyes. “This must be the place.” 

I frown. All these years and Big Mac never said anything about having a whole extra house in the middle of nowhere. But I’m not that surprised. Old dude loved his secrets. 

Ma shakes her head. “I don’t care what your grandaddy said in that letter, Jamal, I don’t like the idea of you going in there alone.” 

I shrug. “Dre will be there too.” 

“You mean the cousin who was your best friend and now y’all act like strangers? That Dre?” 

I’m tempted to remind her that she and Dre’s dad, my uncle Ray, don’t get along either.

“You’d rather let Dre and Uncle Ray have the house?” I say instead. 

She frowns. Didn’t think so. 

“Well,” Ma says, “I’ll be right here. Call if you need me.”

I jog up to the front door. It swings open before I can knock.

“Took you long enough.” Dre towers over me in the doorway. He’s the tallest kid at our middle school, taller even than Uncle Ray, who used to hoop professionally overseas. If today were any other Saturday, Dre would be playing in some AAU tournament, competing against the best high school ballers in the state. He’s that good. 

But Big Mac’s funeral was a few weeks back, and Dre got handed the same black envelope that I did. 

There was a letter inside:

Jamal— 

Look at all these people carrying on like I’m really dead. They must not know our secret, huh? McCoys don’t die! Hope you remember what I taught you about coordinates because I got a surprise for ya! You and your cousin should come and see for yourself. ALONE! I’m putting the key to all my secrets in y’all’s hands. 

—Big Mac

The coordinates were written on the back. Folks laughed when we showed them the letters. Typical Big Mac playing his pranks, they said. 

That laughter got quiet after I tracked the coordinates to an old house way out in the country listed under Grandad’s government name: Gerald McCoy. Then things really got interesting when the guy reading Grandad’s will said the property could only be inherited by one of his grandkids and only if all the requirements are fulfilled. 

But while everybody else is worried about how much the house might be worth, I’ve been thinking about that letter. McCoys don’t die—which, I know, sounds impossible, but if you ever spent a summer with Big Mac, you’d know “impossible” wasn’t a word he believed in. I can’t help wondering if the house isn’t the real surprise—if maybe he’s still alive somehow.

“You going to let me in or what?” I say, pushing past Dre into the small entryway. Two large wooden doors block the rest of the way. I reach for the knobs.

“Already tried it,” says Dre. “Locked.”

“Well, there’s got to be a way in.” I scan the space until I find a small sign that reads KEYS above an empty key rack. Just below it sits a pile of rusted metal parts. I notice a button on one of them. 

Big Mac always said, “You’re either a doer or a spectator. And the world already got enough spectators.”  So I reach out and press the button. I mean, what’s the worst that could— 

The stack of metal moves and I stumble backward into Dre. 

We glare at each other until a whirring sound gets our attention. Those rusted pieces begin to shift and spin until they’ve rearranged themselves into a short robot with glowing silver eyes. 

“KEY DROID OPERATIONAL.”

I glance at Dre. He shrugs. 

“I ASSUME YOU ARE JAMAL AND ANDRE?” the robot squeaks. 

“Y-Yeah, that’s us,” Dre says. “The heck you supposed to be?” 

The robot rolls its silver eyes. “HAVE YOU REALLY NEVER SEEN A KEY DROID BEFORE?”

“Um, I’m gonna say nah,” I reply.

“IT’S SELF-EXPLANATORY. A KEY DROID OPENS DOORS.”

Dre and I just stare at the thing. 

The key droid waddles past us to the locked door, extends a finger, and pushes it into the lock. Two clicks later, the door creaks open. 

The great room beyond is huge, like huge huge. The polished hardwood floors shine even in the dim light, and the ceiling overhead is covered in twinkling white shimmers, like a starry night sky. A great big fireball burns ferociously in midair while golden spheres zip around orbits and burning meteors streak across the room. 

It’s incredible. 

“It’s a model of the solar system,” says Dre. “Those gold orbs are the planets, and see that cloud of dust floating between Mars and Jupiter? I bet that’s the asteroid belt.” 

“AH, SO YOU DO KNOW SOMETHING!” the key droid exclaims. “I REALLY WAS BEGINNING TO QUESTION THE OLD MAN’S JUDGMENT.”

“Man, Big Mac loved anything to do with space,” I say. He taught Dre and me to care about it too. Each summer we’d spend at his trailer, he’d take us outside whenever the night was clear and we’d stare up at the stars. Then he’d tell us stories about all the crazy made-up space missions he’d had when he was younger. Those tales were wild enough to be a Netflix series. 

“Old dude had to be sitting on some serious cash for a room like this,” says Dre.

“See, I knew that’s all you cared about. You didn’t even spend last summer with Grandad. Shouldn’t even be here.” 

“Whatever,” says Dre. “You just worry about yourself.” He turns to the droid. “So how we doing this? Deciding who gets the house.” 

“IT’S SIMPLE,” the key droid explains, pointing to the opposite side of the room. “WHOEVER PASSES THROUGH THAT GOLDEN DOOR INHERITS THE HOUSE.” 

Dre and I both take a long look at the golden door at the back of the great room—and the oversized keyhole at its center. 

“Is Grandad behind that door?” I didn’t mean to say that out loud. 

Dre bursts out laughing. “You dumb as you look, aren’t you? What you think the funeral was for?”

I ball my fists. “Call me dumb again!” 

“Or what?” Dre taunts. 

“SAVE YOUR ENERGY!” shouts the droid. “NOW, SHOULD WE HAVE A LOOK AT THE GOLDEN DOOR OR WOULD YOU RATHER COMPETE FOR A KEY?” 

“That key is mine,” says Dre. “Lead the way, metal dude.” 

“Yeah, let’s get this over with,” I say. “We both know I’m winning that key.” 

Dre and I follow the droid, shooting each other angry looks. We end up in a bright hallway, tall glass display cases lining the walls. Inside, great hunks of stone are covered in ancient-looking drawings of brown-skinned men and women floating in the sky and the heavens above. See, Big Mac had this theory that there are these caretakers who look out for all life in the universe. Humanity was born in Africa, and Grandad said those caretakers stopped by early on to teach us stuff like math and science. Said they took some of us on their ships to see the galaxy. It always sounded like science fiction to me, but looking at these drawings . . . I don’t know what to think. 

The hallway ends at another door. The droid unlocks it and we step into a vast library, great columns of shelved books reaching up to the second-story ceiling.

“OVER HERE,” calls the droid. It points to two glass helmets and two shiny metal backpacks hanging beside the door. 

“What do we do with these?” I ask.

The key droid throws up its hands. “CLEARLY THE HELMETS GO OVER YOUR HEAD, AND THE BACKPACKS GO ON YOUR BACK.” 

I slip the helmet over my head and strap on the backpack. They’re much lighter than they look. 

“NOW, SEE THAT KEY UP THERE?” The key droid points toward a glinting piece of metal high up on one of the columns. “THAT’S WHAT YOU’RE AFTER.” 

“I might be able to dunk, but I can’t jump that high,” says Dre. 

A cackle escapes the key droid. “THEN WHY DON’T I ADJUST THE GRAVITY?” It turns a dial on the wall and my body feels instantly lighter. Dre takes a step backward and ends up gliding 10 feet. 

“ACT FAST! YOU HAVE TWO MINUTES!” With that, the key droid turns the dial as far as it will go, and I float up toward the ceiling. I wave my arms to steady myself, but that just makes it worse. 

That’s when I see Dre speed past me, a stream of smoke pouring out of his backpack. 

Wait, this backpack is a jet pack? I pat it down, looking for a power button, and manage to locate a tiny switch. Here goes nothing . . . 

I zip forward, becoming lost in the cloud of books that have all floated up from the shelves. It takes me a moment to get the hang of this thing, but then it clicks that I have to lean my head and shoulders in the direction I want to go. It’s a lot like swimming in midair. 

I guide myself over to where we saw the key, only it’s not there. For a second, I think I’ve already lost, that Dre must’ve gotten to it before I could. But then I catch sight of him flying in a wide circle below me, hands empty. 

The key must’ve floated away from its shelf too. I glance around frantically, heart pounding as I feel the time slipping away. And then I see it, bouncing along the ceiling. 

I angle myself so that the jet pack lifts me higher, book after book clanging against my helmet. I can’t help but grin as I extend an arm. The key is so close now, I can reach out and—

Something slams into me and I go tumbling backward. I don’t know what’s up and what’s down. I’m totally out of control! 

“TIME’S UP!” 

The jet pack jolts me to a sudden stop. The library spins before my eyes. I blink until Dre’s smirking face comes into focus. At least he doesn’t have the key.

“Too slow, cuz!” He laughs. 

“You cheated!” I shout as the jet pack lowers me gently to the floor. 

Dre just shrugs. “Nobody said we couldn’t play rough.” 

The key droid waddles between us. “IT APPEARS NEITHER OF YOU OBTAINED THE KEY.”

“You happy now?” I ask Dre. “We lost our only chance at the key.”

“As long as you didn’t get it,” he says sourly.

“WELL, THERE IS ONE MORE KEY. A SECOND CHANCE. BUT IT’S FAR MORE DANGEROUS THAN A FEW FLOATING BOOKS.”

“Dangerous?” Dre looks sick. “How dangerous?” 

“BREATHWORM DANGEROUS.” 

“The heck is a breathworm?” asks Dre. 

I cross my arms. “You don’t care about space stuff anymore, remember?” That’s what he said when I got back from space camp and he stopped hanging out with me. Grandad too. Suddenly his life was all about basketball. He was too cool for us. We have spoken more today than we have in the past year. 

“What does space got to do with a breathworm?” 

“That’s where they live,” I say. “Big Mac told me about them last summer.”

Dre starts laughing. “Oh, so it’s just one of Grandad’s space monsters from those silly stories? Man, let’s do this.” 

The key droid takes us back out into the great room to a metal door set off by itself. A bright red sign hangs on the door: 

GARBAGE DISPOSAL AREA

Danger! Beware of Beast!

“THIS WILL BE AS FAR AS I GO,” says the key droid. “I’M QUITE PARTIAL TO NOT GETTING EATEN. LAST CHANCE TO TURN BACK. NO ONE WILL THINK LESS OF YOU.” 

Dre crosses his arms. “Just tell us the rules.” 

“MAKE IT BACK WITH THE KEY IN ONE PIECE. NO TIME LIMIT.” 

“Easy.” Dre yanks open the door and starts down the stairs. 

I get to the bottom of the staircase just in time to see Dre disappear into a tunnel. The place is nothing but tunnels that branch off in every direction. Since Dre went right, I go left. The smell down here gets worse with every turn. 

GRRRR. A growl rumbles through the tunnels, raising the hairs on the back of my neck. 

GRRRRRRRRR. This time the sound is louder. I go from a fast walk to a sprint. I round corner after corner, certain I’m going in circles.

I’m just about to give up when I trip over something metal. Sure enough, it’s the key. I grab it and dash back down the tunnel. No way am I giving Dre a chance to take it from me. 

Then I trip over something else. There can’t be two keys, can there? 

Slowly, I look down at my feet. It’s a bone. A very real bone. And it’s got teeth marks on it. That breathworm is not one of Grandad’s made-up stories. And Dre has no idea. 

I run as fast as I can, this time toward the rumbling echoes.

“Help!” I hear Dre shout as I round the corner. He’s been backed into a corner, a hairy green blob slithering toward him. If Big Mac’s stories are true, then that thing could blow its acid breath on Dre at any moment and he’s done for. 

I think back to how Grandad defeated it in the story. Two things you gotta remember if you ever get mixed up with a breathworm. First, music soothes the savage beast—that’s true on any planet, ya hear? And second, ain’t no music more soothing than some classic Motown—also true on any planet. 

I clear my throat. I can’t believe I’m about to try this.

“I guess . . . you’d say . . . what can make me feel this way? My girl, my girl, my girl . . .” 

The breathworm whips its massive head toward me and goes completely still. Singing The Temptations actually worked! Then the moment passes, and me and the beast both realize that I’m no longer singing. It charges in my direction. 

“Run, Dre!” I take off, tucking the key beneath my armpit, the beast on my heels. I dart through tunnels and manage to put some distance between us before I find the staircase and dash up to the door. I give it a hard knock and the key droid pulls it open for me. 

But Dre isn’t behind me. Panicked, I dash back down the stairs just in time to hear Dre yell, “Stop!” 

And I fear the worst. 

“ . . . in the name of love . . . before you break my heart . . .”

Dre holds the last note as he inches around the calmed breathworm and then we both sprint upstairs. The second we stumble through the door, the key droid slams it shut and locks it tight. 

“Can’t believe you came to help me,” says Dre.

“Me either,” I say. “I don’t know what was worse, that thing’s acid breath or your singing.” 

We laugh. 

“Seriously,” he says. “Thanks.” 

“We’re family. I always got your back when it counts.” 

Dre just nods. Then he adds in a rush, “I didn’t stop caring about space stuff. I took the test for space camp too, but I failed. Failed bad. I was ashamed to tell anyone. Especially you and Grandad. So I decided to give in to my pops and do what I’m good at. Hooping.” 

“But you were even more into space than me,” I say. “Should’ve seen how you were cheesing at that model solar system in the main hall. You can’t give up on it. Not ever.” 

“You mean that?” He grins.

“Definitely.” Now I’m grinning. “But now I gotta claim my inheritance.” 

That’s when I realize the key I thought I had isn’t there. 

“Looking for this?” Dre pulls the key from up his sleeve. “Must’ve dropped it on the staircase. Here, you deserve it.” 

I take it, unable to keep the smile from my face. “C’mon, Dre!” 

“WAIT FOR ME!” shouts the key droid, waddling after us. I take a deep breath when I arrive at the golden door. This might be the last thing we ever get from Big Mac. 

I push the key into the door . . . and it doesn’t work. I turn to the key droid, and the thing just shrugs. 

“I NEVER SAID THE KEYS WOULD WORK ON THIS DOOR. THEY OPEN THE POOL ROOM.” 

“Big Mac pranked us, didn’t he?” asks Dre. 

I shake my head. There’s got to be something we missed. I think back to that letter, and the answer strikes me like lightning. 

I’m putting the key to all my secrets in y’all’s hands. 

“Our hands—our hands are the keys.” I turn to the key droid. “That’s why you offered to bring us straight to this door when we first got here. We didn’t need to compete. We’ve had the keys to this door all along.”

The key droid does a little dance.

I reach my arm into the lock, feeling around until I find two handles. I grab one and say, “Dre, reach in and grab the other handle.”

Dre raises an eyebrow but reaches into the lock with me. We turn the handles in unison and a loud click echoes through the room. 

Grandad’s voice sounds through a speaker. “Knew you two’d figure it out. Reckon I just wanted to say that I love you both, and that spending summers with you was something I looked forward to every year. Kept this old man young. As long as you two stick together, my memory will live on through you and I’ll never be truly gone. Now then, hurry up and decide which one of you is going to inherit the house . . .”

The golden door swings open. 

“’Cause the other gets my spaceship!” 

^{“The McCoy Game” by B. B. Alston, copyright © 2021 by B. B. Alston; from BLACK BOY JOY: 17 STORIES CELEBRATING BLACK BOYHOOD by Kwame Mbalia.Used by permission of Delacorte Press, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Penguin Random House LLC. All rights reserved.}

^{This story was originally published in the April 2022 issue.}