My Rival Cries While I Sleep

I was the internet’s favorite punching bag—the lazy, unmotivated starlet who somehow stumbled into fame.

So when the network announced I was joining the cast of The Edge, a brutal wilderness survival reality show, the comment sections erupted.

To make matters worse, they had also cast Courtney Ross. Courtney was the industry’s undisputed queen of the hustle.

She was the girl who woke up at four in the morning to drink green juice and post motivational quotes about "the grind." She was tireless; I was indolent.

She actively looked for chores to do; I fell asleep the second my head hit a flat surface.

The internet was having a field day. [Does she even realize this is a literal survival show? This isn't a spa day.] [Courtney has been training in the Rockies for months.

Mandy is just begging to be humiliated at this point.] [Courtney Ross: Pure work ethic.

Mandy Cornell: Lazy, useless trash.] Even Brody Henderson, the show’s goldenboy actor, couldn't help but sneer in his preshow interview: "Being on a show like this with someone who clearly doesn't want to work is an insult to the rest of us." But when the cameras started rolling, things didn't go quite the way they expected.

Courtney, eager to prove her mettle, immediately fell upon the first challenge, hacking away at half an acre of barley by hand until her palms bled.

The live chat was swooning, gearing up to drag me for being a useless slacker. But then the camera panned to me.

I was rumbling down the field in a massive, airconditioned combine harvester, waving lazily from the glass cabin. The chat went dead silent. [Holy shit.

I guess technology really is the ultimate life hack.] … I was jolted awake by a rough hand on my shoulder.

I blinked against the harsh sunlight filtering through the window of the production bus. "Are we there?" The director was staring down at me, his expression a mix of disbelief and annoyance. "We've been here for an hour, Mandy.

The other contestants are practically finished with their first challenge." "And nobody thought to wake me up?" The live feed was already scrolling with comments. [Of course she slept the entire drive.

The slacker persona is real.] [Meanwhile, Courtney has already cleared her rows. Look at her hands—they're practically raw.

That's dedication!] The Edge was designed to be a brutal, eliminationstyle survival show. Only one winner would walk away with the grand prize.

Even before the first episode aired, my name had been trending for all the wrong reasons.

The consensus was clear: a lazy, cornercutting actress like me had no business being on a show that celebrated grit.

But the producers knew that hatewatching brought in the highest ratings.

The director leaned in, speaking rapidly. "The first task is harvesting a plot of barley within the time limit.

The last person to finish is immediately disqualified." He paused, offering a pitying shrug that didn't reach his eyes. "But, well... more than half the time has already passed." I knew exactly what they were doing.

They had left me on the bus on purpose. They wanted me to fail, to look like a fool, to draw in the angry mobs for the ratings. Without a word, I stood up and stepped off the bus.

The midday sun was punishing. In the distance, several contestants were bent double, sweat soaking through their shirts as they hacked at the barley with hand scythes.

Courtney was miles ahead of the pack, her movements practiced and furious.

Brody Henderson looked up as I approached, his eyes dripping with disdain. "Oh, look who finally decided to join us.

I thought you were just going to sleep your way to an early exit." He pointed a finger toward Courtney. "Look at her.

She’s already cleared half an acre." Courtney paused, wiping her brow with the back of her hand.

She offered me a soft, sympathetic smile that felt entirely rehearsed. "It's fine, Brody. Everyone has a different approach to work. I just...

I want to make sure I don't disappoint the people who believed in me." I shoved my hands into my pockets, my voice flat. "If you have enough breath to give a speech, Courtney, you're clearly not working hard enough." Brody let out a harsh laugh. "Keep talking.

The clock is ticking. Enjoy your flight home tonight." He turned to Courtney, his voice softening into reverence. "This show is meant for people like you.

People who actually prepare." Courtney sighed, her expression sweet and humble. "I did spend months in physical training for this.

I guess some of us are just more used to hard work than others." I couldn't help but smile. "Good for you. I hope you enjoy it.

You can have my share of the hard work, too." Courtney’s smile stiffened.

She raised her voice, clearly playing to the cameras to secure the moral high ground. "Mandy, this is a competition. You can't expect the rest of us to carry you.

If you choose to slack off, you have to face the consequences." With that, they turned their backs on me and went back to their labor, treating me as if I were already gone.

I didn't bother arguing. I turned around and walked back toward the edge of the field. The chat exploded again. [Did she just walk off?

Did she quit?] [Can we just disqualify her already? I can't stand her face.] A few minutes later, a low, mechanical rumble began to vibrate through the earth.

The sound grew louder, a steady, roaring thrum that drowned out the wind.

In the fields, the contestants stopped, shielding their eyes against the glare as they looked toward the perimeter.

I was sitting in the highbacked cabin of a massive green harvester, navigating the giant rotating blades directly into my designated plot of barley.

As the machine rolled forward, the barley fell in clean, effortless sweeps. The contestants froze. The production crew dropped their clipboards.

The live chat went entirely blank for a second, then shattered. [Holy shit. Is she driving a combine?] [Tell me I'm hallucinating.

Since when does Mandy Cornell know how to operate heavy farm machinery?] [Where did she even find that thing?!] My plot was cleared in less than ten minutes.

I shut down the engine, climbed down from the cabin, and dusted off my jeans. "You cheated!" Brody was the first to find his voice, his face flushed red with anger. "Using a machine doesn't count!" "We've been sweating out here for hours, our hands are blistered, and you just drive in?

It's insulting to the concept of hard work!" Courtney added, her eyes welling with tears as she cradled her reddened palms. "We're all giving this our everything, Mandy.

Finding a loophole like this... it feels incredibly unfair.

It feels like you're mocking our effort." I tilted my head toward the edge of the field. "The harvesters were parked right by the barn. The keys were hanging on the peg inside.

There are three more over there. Nobody stopped you from using them." The silence that followed was heavy. The live chat was starting to turn. [Honestly... she has a point.

The machines were right there.] [Wait, the real question is... who the hell knows how to drive a combine harvester in Hollywood?] The director, staring at the skyrocketing realtime viewership numbers, had a massive grin on his face.

This was pure gold. He stepped forward, raising his megaphone. "The harvesters were indeed placed as environmental props by the production crew.

Mandy utilized her resources within the rules.

Her harvest is valid—first place goes to Mandy Cornell!" "And as the winner of the first challenge," the director continued, "Mandy gets first pick of tonight's accommodations." As evening fell, the director presented the options.

The first was a cramped, lowprofile bivouac tent at the base of the ridge, surrounded by thick brush.

The second was a luxury canvas yurt pitched at the very peak of the hill, offering a stunning, unobstructed view of the valley below. "I'll take the base," I said without hesitation.

Brody let out a loud, mocking laugh. "Classic. The lazy girl can't even handle a thirtyminute hike up the hill.

Have fun in your dirt coffin." Courtney shook her head with patronizing pity. "The view up there is beautiful, Mandy. It's really not that far.

You shouldn't let laziness rob you of the experience." I looked at them, then up at the sky. The clouds were hanging low, bruised and heavy.

The wind was starting to carry a sharp, damp chill. "Why do you care what I choose?" They scoffed and turned away, eager to begin their ascent to the peak.

Left to myself, I unzipped my single backpack and pulled out a simple yellow Bic lighter.

Within minutes, I had a crackling, warm fire going under the natural rock overhang of my campsite.

Brody and Courtney, who were just about to head up the trail, stopped dead in their tracks. "Where did you get fire?" Brody demanded, his eyes wide. "I brought a lighter," I said simply.

I looked at Courtney. "Courtney, you did a threepart video series showing off your packing list. You had fifteen different colorcoordinated dry bags.

Don't tell me you forgot a lighter?" Courtney’s expression shifted through several shades of pale.

She bit her lip, her voice turning defensive. "I had so much to prepare... some things naturally get overlooked. Besides, rubbing sticks together is the authentic way to survive.

Using a lighter defeats the purpose of being out here." The chat began to crack. [Wait... did she actually bring a portable fan and setting spray but forgot a lighter?] [I looked up her 'essential wilderness list' on Instagram.

It's literally just skincare and influencer gear.] Brody stepped in, trying to dominate the space. "Since you already have the fire started, Mandy, give us the lighter.

We're going up to the ridge. It's colder up there. We need it more." Courtney nodded, her voice soft and pleading. "Yes, Mandy. It's freezing on the peak.

If we don't have a fire, we could genuinely get sick. You wouldn't want us to freeze, would you?" The live chat piped up. [They should share.

It's just decent.] [Yeah, let them have it.] I slipped the lighter back into my pocket. "Didn't you two just tell me this is a competition? That I shouldn't expect handouts?

Why is the lazy girl suddenly your emergency services?" They both froze. Brody sneered, "Whatever.

We don't need your cheap lighter anyway." Courtney raised her chin. "The survival guides show exactly how to frictionstart a fire. We'll be fine." I didn't bother replying.

I crawled into my small tent and zipped it shut. Night fell quickly, and with it came the storm. The wind screamed through the valley, rattling the branches above.

Then came the deluge—a freezing, torrential mountain rain. My campsite, nestled against a threesided rock face, remained completely dry and shielded from the gale.

But up on the peak, there was no protection. The wind caught the luxury yurt, snapping the poles, and the entire structure sailed off into the darkness like a broken kite.

Soaked to the bone, shivering, and losing their gear to the dark, Courtney and Brody came scrambling down the mountain trail, slipping in the mud until they reached my tent.

Brody pounded on the wet fabric. "Mandy! Open up! Let us in!" I lay comfortable on my sleeping pad, warm and dry. "My tent fits one.

You won't fit." "Are you seriously that cruel?" Brody’s voice cracked with rage. "It's pouring out here! Courtney is freezing!

If she gets hypothermia, that's on you!" Beside him, Courtney let out a theatrical, shivering cough. The chat was divided. [This is kind of messed up.

She's letting them freeze.] [But wait, this is a survival show, not a charity. Why didn't they plan better?] I didn't budge. "If she gets sick, that's her own doing.

If you can't handle a little rain, call the medic. There's a heated production trailer parked half a mile down. You can tap out right now." The shouting stopped.

They weren't going to quit and lose their shot at the show. The next morning, the sun rose on a washedout valley. I stepped out of my tent, feeling perfectly rested.

The other contestants looked like drowned rats, their expensive gear ruined and their food supplies soaked.

Courtney approached me, a tight, desperate smile plastered on her face. "Mandy... all our rations were ruined in the storm.

Surely you have some extra food?" Brody followed close behind. "You left us out in the cold last night. The least you can do is share some food.

We're starving." I looked at them. "Didn't you guys say yesterday that my single backpack meant I didn't bring anything 'substantial'?

Since I have so little, how could I possibly have enough to share?" They stood there, speechless. The chat was loving it. [Oof.

She kept receipts.] [Mandy: I'm lazy, but my memory is flawless.] The director, seeing the recordbreaking live views, decided to stir the pot.

A production assistant walked over to me, looking thoroughly guilty. "I am so sorry, Mandy," the assistant said, his acting terrible. "We accidentally packed your bag with the trash during the storm cleanup.

It's gone." Brody let out a loud, vindictive laugh. "Looks like karma exists after all." Courtney offered a patronizing pat on my arm. "Don't worry, Mandy.

We're all in the same boat now. It's only fair." I shrugged. "Whatever. It was mostly empty anyway." Courtney smiled, convinced I was just trying to save face.

The director announced: "Since all contestants have lost their starting supplies, you must now forage for your own food.

You are entirely on your own!" Courtney immediately took charge, trying to reclaim her leader status. "Don't panic! If we work together, we can find plenty.

Nature is our grocery store!" She gave out vague orders: "You find vegetables, you catch fish, you hunt." But she didn't explain how. [She sounds exactly like my manager giving a pep talk.] [Do any of these people actually know what a wild onion looks like?] Courtney turned to me. "Mandy, we won't ask you to join us.

You didn't help us last night, so I'm sure you don't need our help now." "Suits me," I said. I grew up in rural Iowa. This forest was practically a buffet.

By afternoon, I returned to camp with a pocketful of fresh wild berries. Courtney’s "foraging squad" limped back shortly after, emptyhanded, exhausted, and covered in scratches.

They had seen mushrooms but didn't know if they were toxic. They tried to fish but couldn't catch anything. They stared hungrily at my berries.

Courtney stepped forward, her sweettalking smile returning.

I cut her off before she could speak. "We agreed to keep things separate." I looked at the rest of them. "Surely a group of elite survivalists isn't planning to beg a lazy girl for her food?" Courtney’s jaw tightened.

The others looked away in shame. I set the berries down near my tent and walked down to the creek to check the water source. When I got back, the berries were gone.

My expression went cold. I walked straight to Courtney’s camp. "Where are my berries?" Brody scoffs. "Lost your food again? First your bag, now this.

Maybe you need to learn some basic responsibility." Courtney sighed. "You're always losing things, Mandy.

Maybe it's a habit you need to work on." They thought I won't cause a scene on live television. They thought I had no proof. But they didn't know me.

I looked directly at her. "Courtney, you stole them."