It was a cold winter day in January. We had already gotten five inches of snow and it was still coming down. I was going up the chairlift at Loon Mountain with my friend Jon after our lesson with the Massachusetts Ski Club.

At the top of the mountain we skied down to a trail called "The Flume," which is a black diamond trail (the most difficult).

"Let's go down this trail," said Jon.

"I don't know if we should; it looks awfully hard," I replied, but it was too late. Jon had already started down the trail, so I skied after him.

Almost immediately I saw Jon go off a mogul, flip, and land on his leg. Next I heard a loud cry. I skied over to him to find his leg was twisted in a funny way.

"Quick!" I said to someone skiing by, "get the ski patrol." The guy skied down the mountain as fast as he could.

The next thing I remember I was waiting in the hospital for the doctor to come out when I heard, "Hi, Matt." I looked up to see Jon in a wheelchair.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Yes, but I'm going to be in this cast forever."

On the way home, all I could think about was what had happened that day and how glad I was that the Mass Ski Club insists on skiing with a buddy. n