"Star, can you open your eyes for me?" Steven Hall pleaded.

His 12-year-old daughter Vernice sat propped up in front of a long mirror and two physical therapists at Gillette Children's Hospital in St. Paul. Several seconds passed.

"Starrr," Hall asked again, using her nickname, patiently stroking her right hand. "Find my face."

Her eyes popped open. Then came a flutter of blinks. Then a huge cough, with a little drool sliding down her mouth for good measure.

Not bad for a girl whose family was told by doctors two months ago to prepare for the worst.

On Sept. 22, Vernice Hall was shot in the head just steps outside a party in her north Minneapolis home. Two teens face attempted first-degree murder charges. She was not the intended target.

The bullet ripped through her brain. She had surgery to a remove a piece of her skull to reduce swelling and spent nearly a month on a respirator.

Now, she's breathing on her own and that missing skull fragment has been restored. You can see the Y-shaped scar atop her head, but the spot on her forehead where the bullet entered is clearing up.

Vernice still eats through a feeding tube, but she has progressed enough to be transferred from Hennepin County Medical Center in Minneapolis to Gillette. Here, she's undergoing physical, speech and occupational therapy for three hours a day.

Doctors say a full recovery is unlikely with such a traumatic brain injury. But she could regain some basic response skills and be able to recognize her family and friends, whose colorful pictures and encouraging words decorate her room.

Technically, Vernice is in fair condition, which allows for rehabilitation, said Dr. Susan Quigley, pediatric rehab medicine specialist at Gillette. A family conference on her status is scheduled for Friday.

"She's starting to show some incremental change," Quigley said cautiously on Wednesday. "We're seeing some spontaneous movements [such as often repositioning her head, as opposed to just lying still in bed]."

That gives the family some hope, her father said.

"Slight progress," Hall said. "They're little changes, but they're changes. The doctors said she's doing things at a slower pace, but it's progress to us.

"I'm just so happy we didn't lose her."

The staff has noticed that Vernice reacts more to her father's voice than to others. It pleases Hall, but he and his family know there's a long road ahead. A fund has been set up at US Bank branches.

Since the shooting, the family has moved to Hopkins. Hall faithfully takes daily hour-plus-long crosstown bus rides to be by her side. He hopes to have a wheelchair-accessible van when Vernice comes home.

He was there Tuesday when therapists Amy Schulz and Paula Braaten spent an hour pacing Vernice through various stretching exercises in 15-second intervals.

"I got her head to move, but we help a little bit," Braaten said.

When Wednesday's session got a tad slow, Schulz enlisted Hall to help Vernice open her eyes.

"Hey, Star, c'mon," Hall said, playfully nibbling on Vernice's chin. "You got to get up and put in a little work for us."

Almost on cue, her eyes widened, much to the delight of those in the room.

"Good! Good!" Hall said, smiling. "That's what I'm talking about."

Then he pushed it. "If you love me, give me a good blink."

Her eyelashes begin to flutter.

Terry Collins • 612-673-1790