FREMONT -- Rechelle Sneath leans back in her wheelchair, squinting up into the bright mid-afternoon sun that glints off the "Welcome Home" balloons.

"It's so good to be back," she says, stroking her white rabbit, Tinkerbell, as she gazes at the group of family, friends and neighbors who have gathered on the front lawn of her Collier Place home to greet her. "I'm not used to the sun, so I'm, like, dying out here."

She's calm about it all. Her life changed in an instant five weeks ago, and it happened while she was doing what she loves. But she doesn't seem to dwell on that now, as she wheels herself up the newly installed cedar-planked ramp that leads to her front door; as she checks out the bathroom that is being remodeled for her use; as she is led to her room, which her family redecorated in hues of pink while she was away.

"She has so much love," remarks her mom, Kathy Sneath. "We're so lucky."

Most people wouldn't consider it lucky. They might even be bitter. A former cheerleading captain at American High School and a freshman cheerleader at San Jose State University, Rechelle was flung into the air during a "basket-toss" maneuver at a Jan. 7 practice. She doesn't remember much about what happened next.

"I don't even know what happened," she says. "It was just so fast and then all of a sudden, I couldn't feel my legs. ...I just started praying."

When Rechelle turns 19 a little more than a month from now, she hopes for a birthday present that her loved ones can't buy her. She hopes for progress. She hopes for a little more feeling to return to her legs. She hopes for just a fraction of what most people take for granted every day.

One day, she hopes to walk again.

Rechelle's injury is known as an "incomplete." That's a good thing.

A "complete" means nerve damage has obstructed every signal from the brain to body parts below the injury, and there is little chance of recovery.

An "incomplete" injury, however, means there is some muscle control, some sensation -- some messages are getting through. It means there's hope.

"We like that," says Dr. Michael Berlly, chairman and medical director of the department of physical medicine and rehabilitation at Santa Clara Valley Medical Center.

"If it's a complete injury, it's unlikely you'll have significant return of function. If it's incomplete, we can't predict anything. There could be very little further recovery or there could be lots of it. The longer you go without significant recovery, the less likely it is. But Rechelle is a long way from that point."

Berlly and his colleagues at the 76-bed rehabilitation center treat about 150 patients a year. Car accidents are by far the most common cause of paralysis, along with sports and diving injuries. But they are starting to see an increasing number of gunshot wounds, as well.

It is the only hospital in the country with a rehabilitation trauma center, where patients are admitted early -- usually directly from the emergency room -- and treated by nurses who specialize in rehabilitation.

"This is what we do, and what we do best" Berlly says.

Rechelle underwent surgery at San Jose Hospital, then was transferred to the trauma center. When she was able to sit upright at least three hours a day, the rehabilitation process began.

In addition to physical therapy, the rehabilitation center offers a peer support group and helps educate family members about their role in patients' recovery and day-to-day living. When patients are ready, therapists bring them out on trips -- to dinner, to a concert -- to help acclimate them to their changed life outside the hospital.

In Rechelle's case, her first outing was to a San Jose State basketball game. There was some concern that she could become depressed by visiting her cheerleading friends, but that didn't turn out to be a problem, Berlly says.

"She handled it great," he says. "It takes a really mature kid to do that."

Berlly points to the 12th thoracic vertebra -- or "T-12" -- on a model of the spinal cord. This is the one that was fractured when Rechelle landed.

"Because her injury is relatively low, her trunk is real strong, so her sitting balance is going to be really good," he says. In addition, "she's an athlete, so she's in good physical shape. She's flown through rehab as fast as anybody can."

Kathy Sneath was standing in line at Fremont Bank one day when a woman she didn't even know came up to her.

The woman had heard about her daughter's injury, and handed Kathy a small medallion of the Virgin Mary. Today, Rechelle wears it around her wrist.

The outpouring of support since the accident has been phenomenal, Kathy says. About 90 students and friends stopped by to see Rechelle in the hospital, including an unexpected visitor.

Neil Parry, a member of the San Jose State Spartans' punt-return team who suffered a compound fracture that led to the amputation of his lower right leg three seasons ago, stopped by about three weeks ago to wish her well.

Rechelle also has received dozens of letters from all over the country.

"They have given us a lot of encouraging words," Kathy Sneath says. "They ask me what they can do and I say, 'Pray. That's all you can do.'[th--"

When Rechelle was released from the rehabilitation center on Thursday, the American High School marquee flashed a message wishing her well.

She started cheerleading there in her junior year, after seven years playing softball. She made captain her senior year. Ironically, she liked the crowd-pleasing aerial stunts best, especially the basket toss.

"That was my favorite, 'cause that's what the crowd likes," Rechelle says.

Kathy Sneath, though, is no fan of the maneuver.

"I don't think they should do that ever again," she said.

Rechelle plans to return to San Jose State in the fall, whether she's walking or still in a wheelchair.

She'd like to be a doctor someday.

For now, though, she's just happy to be home.

A breeze swirls across the Sneaths' front lawn, rustling the balloons attached to a folding table festooned with white lace and a half-eaten chocolate cake.

Dozens of messages dot a large poster taped to the front window.

"Welcome Home Rechelle."

"I know you're strong and pulling through."

"I love you with all my heart."

The neighbors begin to ease themselves out of deck chairs, saying their goodbyes.

Rechelle's friend Dirk Lorenz, the owner of Fremont Flowers, chats with her as she wheels her way cautiously down the ramp.

"Good to be home?"

"Oh, yeah."